Normality
by Nightwitch87
Summary: What happens once the drama is over? Can it ever be over? A series of scenes of "rebuilding life" as Liv and Brian struggle to make their relationship work. Disclaimer: I don't hold the copyright to Law and Order: SVU and I am not deriving any profit off this story. Note: If you want me to work on this (or even if you hate it), please do me the courtesy of leaving a review. Thanks.
1. Dripping

**Normality**

Squeaking. That's what this was, she realized somewhere at the back of her mind, in that half aware place she wouldn't remember later on. Squeaking of some sort. She ignored it, her brain unwilling to process it fully. Go back to sleep. "Ugh, come on" a hoarse voice mumbled.

Nope, this wasn't happening. She was definitely awake. Drowsy, but awake. She opened her eyes. Too much light. Too much lead in her limbs, a dizzy fog around her. And the damn squeaking. "Brian?"

He startled and turned around in his crouched position, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. Wanted to let you sleep in. Sorry."

Too many words. "What are you do-" The end to her blissful unawareness came rapidly. Her badge on the stove. The feeling of the hot keys on her skin. Lewis shouting. Her public humiliation. Brian's face when he saw Lewis. _It's over. I am safe now. Until he gets out. But he's been locked away. I didn't cry in court. I didn't really. I did good. They hated me. It was my fault. It wasn't, it's his, I'm an idiot for blaming myself! I'm weak. I lost it. They'll take it all away, everything. _The woman hanging. Her feet, kicking.

"Liv? Hey?" He was by her side in an instant. It still freaked her out how that happened sometimes, how she lost entire moments, slipping in and out of reality. Brian was usually pretty good about giving her space, about not overdoing it or getting all worked up, about not creeping up on her. "It's all right. It's over now." He spoke to her quietly before lightly touching her hand. The same as always. Empty words, but the ritual was somewhat reassuring.

She consciously slowed down her breathing, steadying herself, and took his hand.

"How did you sleep?"

"All right." To her surprise, this was somewhat true. She had been so exhausted after everything, unable to talk, shower, eat or do anything. Anything at all besides fall into bed. She could barely remember getting home last night, and nothing since then. She had no recollection aside from a vague memory of Brian's voice talking soothingly as she screamed out once. Which was nothing, compared to the nights they had been having again these past few weeks, as the trial dragged out, disturbing their fragile peace.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She smiled wanly. "What were you doing in the bathroom?"

"Trying to fix the sink. Not much success so far." A trickle of sweat was running down his neck, right into his grey sweatshirt.

She raised her eyebrows. "Now? That tap has been dripping on and off for the past month."

He shrugged. "Just needed to do find something to do, I guess."

She felt a small pang of guilt. "You okay?" The previous day had to have been tough for him as well, yet all the focus had been on her. _No, don't think about yesterday. Not now._

"Yeah." There was an awkward pause. It was too soon to talk about it.

"I'll help you fix that tap."

He groaned. "Please, no more right now. How about I fix us some breakfast instead?"

"That sounds-" Her eyes fell on the alarm clock. 13:06. "It's one p.m.?! How long have I been asleep for? What day is it, even?"

He couldn't help but give a short laugh at that. "No worries, it's only been like 17 hours."

"You could have woken me up." How could she still feel so groggy after all that sleep? Her head was heavy, and her back ached.

"You seemed to need it. And we got nowhere to be today. Take it easy. I'll go make some breakfast."

"Thanks. And then we'll start on that tap again." You had to begin somewhere.


	2. Comfort

"I'm so happy for you." She hugged him. They stayed like this for a moment, enjoying the warmth before she stepped back, still smiling. "You've earned this."

"Thanks. I mean, it's not much of a step up, but it's-"

"What are you talking about? They're putting you in charge again, giving you the lead on their cases without Tucker glancing over your shoulder. This soon after assigning you to the unit? That's some show of confidence." _And this has nothing to do with how things went down with Nick_, she told herself. She needed to keep these things separate in her mind, or she wouldn't be able to be supportive. These days, a lot of her life seemed to be about differentiating and separating between things. Creating these boundaries had taken her long enough, and now that they had been erected, now that she was keeping things balanced –just about- she wasn't going to throw all that out the window again.

"No kidding." He held up a bottle of wine. "I got us something to celebrate."

"Perfect." She headed into the kitchen to grab glasses and a bottle opener.

"Guess they think I'm not afraid to go up against the blue line" he said loud enough for her to hear. "Not gonna make many friends that way."

"Well, IAB's not exactly popular, but we both know there are some cops out there who only picked the job because they love playing big and pushing people around. Someone needs to handle them. Better to manage the cases than to just do somebody else's dirty work." When she returned, he had plopped down on the couch, putting his feet on the table. She hated when he did that, especially with the new table, but didn't say anything this time, sitting down next to him and taking a look at the fancy-looking bottle. "What is this stuff?"

"A red."

"I can see that." She put in the corkscrew and started twisting it.

"Something expensive, French and impossible to pronounce."

Typical. She was clearly the wine connoisseur in this relationship. "So you bought it because you liked the picture of the mountains on the label?"

"Basically." He grinned, playing with the string at the back of her shirt.

She handed him a glass and raised her own. "To fresh starts. I'm proud of you."

"Hey, you're the one who's made it to the top of the unit. You got reason to be proud."

They clinked glasses and she took a sip of the wine. "Hm, pretty good. Dry." This was much better than drinking on her own, which she knew she really shouldn't be doing so much of.

"You like dry."

"I do." She put down her glass on the table and leaned back, snuggling up next to him so her head came to rest on his shoulder. She loved this part of the week. Just coming home to someone, not really doing anything, sharing or not sharing, not even having to talk but simply unwinding. They hadn't been doing nearly enough of that lately, with him working the strangest of hours and her working – well, non-stop. She loved being so comfortable with him, a comfort born out of trust and familiarity. It was as if she had known him for a very long time, which was amazing considering that he had changed so much in all these years, as had she. There was a huge chunk of time missing, and it had taken some work to get to know each other again. Still, they had lived through a lifetime of ups and downs this past year alone.

"You know," she could feel his lips lightly grazing the top of her head as he spoke, "this means more long hours. More unexpected calls and paperwork. We'll see even less of each other."

"I know." They sometimes went days without exchanging a word beyond "good morning" and "see you later". She'd been taking more and more paperwork home with her in the hope of changing that. "We'll be okay."

"Yeah." She could hear the relief in his voice, and knew that on some level, he had been nervous about telling her. There was no need. One of the things she loved about him was precisely that he wasn't focused only on her. They had their separate lives, in addition to what they shared. He got that. He hadn't needed to discuss everything with her, either, didn't have that incessant need to talk. They barely talked about work at all. And when they had moved into the new apartment together, it hadn't been this huge deal. It had just been time.

"You like the work, right?"

"Yeah, it's all right. Less…messy. Or messy in a different way."

She understood. No shots flying around, no homeless kids overdosing, no prostitutes being beaten up. "Think you'll miss the mess?" She missed her old work, in an odd way, not that she had much time to think about it.

"Nope. Not for now, anyway."

"Hmm." She took another sip of wine and put down the glass on the table again. It was actually a pretty good one. They remained quiet for a moment, each alone with their thoughts. Brian's hand had begun to caress her arm, and her tiredness soon began to fade.

"By the way, this Saturday, there's this sports fair going on at the park. They have all kinds of new things and you can try them all. They even have bossaball."

"They have what?"

"Bossaball. It sounds fun, it's like volleyball except they put up these trampolines and a kind of big inflatable thing around it."

She laughed. Sometimes, when he opened his mouth, she couldn't believe the things that came out. "And you're looking to discover a new hidden talent?"

"What? Come on, it'll be fun."

"Brian" she groaned. "You know we're not 15 anymore, right?"

"We can watch how it's done first."

"Well, as much as I'd love to see you do that, I can't" she sighed. "I'm working Saturday, remember?"

"Oh. Right." His hand stalled, and she immediately regretted that she couldn't give him a different answer. They hadn't laughed like that in a while. It felt like a tentative step back to simpler days.

She sat up slightly and turned her head so she could look at him. "Maybe we can do something Saturday night. Maybe."

He shook his head, trying to hide his disappointment. "Let's not make plans only to break them. Again." He looked at her for a moment, and the smile returned, spreading to his eyes. His face was only inches from hers. "Guess we'll need to make up for it now."

She picked up on the sudden shift in mood. "We don't own a bossaball court…field?"

"Shame, really. We could think of an alter-"

She interrupted him by closing the distance for a kiss. It took him a second to respond, surprised as he had to be by the spontaneity. Neither of them had really taken the initiative lately, with the trial, Nick around the apartment and the subsequent drama, as well as their promotions. There just hadn't been space for that aspect of their relationship. But tonight, she needed this, feeling him, experiencing pleasure, wanting, being wanted. Yet he was almost hesitant in touching her at first, staying modest and gentle and above her clothes. It was Olivia who untucked his shirt and eventually straddled him, as he trailed a line of kisses down her neck. "Bedroom?" he mumbled, barely audible.

"Shh. Don't talk."


	3. Disintegrating

She kept picking up the pen and putting it down again. Picking it up, putting it down. Picking it up, holding it against her lips, putting it down. Where was he? He better have a good excuse for this. Any attempt to actually focus on the text in front of her was useless, any attempt to take sensible notes even more so. Maybe she would do better working on the computer. Maybe not. She was pointlessly wasting time, all because of him. She shouldn't base everything on him. She should simply take a shower and go to bed, but the thought of sleep seemed ludicrous right now. Where the hell was he? She put down her papers once again, too fidgety to sort them and put them back into the folder. She couldn't stand the silence, the thickness of it, but she couldn't tolerate the TV or the radio either. She was just listening to it, the sound of cars going by outside, the occasional siren in the distance. If she turned on the TV now, she couldn't listen, even though she wasn't listening for anything in particular.

She got up and walked to the window, pulling the curtains shut in a more symmetrical way after a brief glimpse down at the empty street. Her sensory system seemed to notice everything magnified by ten, hyperawake, hyperalert. She knew she should be taking a warm shower to relax her; she was still sweaty from earlier and freezing, but irrationally, she didn't want to miss the chance to yell at him. She had turned on every light in the apartment. She had put her phone away to charge, not so far away she wouldn't hear it beeping just in case, but far enough so she wouldn't check it every other minute. She had called the night shift at work to check in. It was a regular weekday night.

She returned to pacing the apartment, tidying and spot cleaning as she went. She really hated this, thinking about him so much, worrying pointlessly, getting angry, feeling like her skin was prickling and her pulse rushing. If the situation were reversed, she would hate him being so needy. But everything would have been so much simpler if he had just called and said something. Everything would be much easier if she weren't acting so dependent today for absolutely no reason. She kept telling herself that it didn't mean anything, that he was always there when it counted, that he wasn't acting unreliable on purpose. He had probably been held up by his boss, and might feel bad for it anyway. They had gotten into a bad routine of that, messing up then feeling guilty and overcompensating. Avoiding serious conversations.

She was trying to keep her thoughts busy, to think of other things, away from the darkness and thoughts of how things could never be the same again, could never be all right again, and why that might be. No. This was her second chance, like it had been Cragen's. But it took work, every second of every day, sometimes more and sometimes less, and that was exhausting. Her mind kept jumping from one thing to the next, Brian, the work she should be doing right now, the work she'd left behind, Nick and his issues, Cragen, Brian, wine, her mother, anything at all. _Calm down._

She was about to pick up her file again, when she heard a key turning in the lock. Finally. After a momentary startle, an immediate relief washed over her. At least the waiting was over.

"Hey, it's me!" he shouted the second he entered, as usual. Tonight, it annoyed her, reminding her of when she'd pulled her gun on him. Like that was going to happen again.

She took a deep breath, composing herself, and crossed her arms.

"Liv?" He stuck his head around the corner while taking off his shoes. "Oh, hi."

"Hey."

"I-" His smile immediately disappeared when he saw her. "Shit, I'm sorry. The gym. Did you wait long?"

"A while."

He entered the room, approaching her warily. "I'm sorry I didn't make it, things were crazy. I was doing this interview, and-"

"You couldn't have called?"

"I was in an interview. I couldn't interrupt that, it was-"

She didn't listen, not really caring about the justification. Of course there was a good reason; there was always a reason. What irritated her more than anything was how casual he was about this, how he'd been perfectly happy coming home and now, only as an afterthought, realised he'd even forgotten about her.

"-went on and on."

"We just talked about it at lunchtime. How hard is it to pick up a phone?"

"I know, you're right" he raised his hands. "Look, I get that you're pissed."

"Of course I am!" And of course, he was trying to avoid a fight by apologizing and agreeing. It was his thing. "You said you'd be there!" She swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat. She was way too upset about this, and felt slightly stupid for clinging to his words like that.

His expression changed again, from surprise to concern. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realise it was so…important…"

She shook her head and turned away from him. "Hey." He took a few steps closer and touched her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. "What happened?"

"Nothing." She looked at him and saw the worry lines etched into his face. Once again, she was reminded how different he was from the young man she had once known.

"Nothing?"

"A stressful day that ended in being stood up."

"You sure? How was the gym?"

"Fine." She had no interest in discussing the gym, the one positive thing in this day until those beefcakes had started leering and making comments, nor her feelings when she had been waiting outside, cold and trying to reach him but finding out that her battery had died. She had walked home, because she hadn't felt like being around all those people on the subway. But that was hardly something she could put on him. Still, if he had just shown up like he had said he would, none of it would have seemed so bad.

"And you're…doing all right?" he asked with a special emphasis, a particular, slightly awkward hesitation.

"No" she stopped him harshly. "Don't, Bri, just don't make it about that."

"Isn't it?"

"I'm not saying that isn't part of it, but don't treat me like I'm traumatized and irrational, and like you standing me up isn't enough of a reason to be pissed!"

"That's not what I was saying."

"I don't want you to feel sorry for me." It was something she'd been waiting to say for a long time, looking for the words to express it.

"Where is this coming from?" he exclaimed, visibly confused.

"I just want you to listen to what I'm saying and take it seriously."

"I'm trying!" he shouted, obviously struggling to contain his anger. "Though you're not making it easy. Look, I just don't know what you want me to say! "

"But that's the point!" This was getting so frustrating. "I don't want you to say anything, I just need you to show up when you say you're going to, that's all!"

"Fine! You know, I'm not the only one who's been bailing out on things."

Of course, this had to come sooner or later. "I always tell you if I can't make it!"

"That doesn't change the fact that you almost never make it!" She hadn't seen him this angry in a long time. He didn't really get angry with her, or was always trying very hard not to, which made her feel guilty as a result. It felt odd, to be having an actual argument with him. "I see more of Tucker than I do of you, and when you're here, you bring work home."

"I asked you if you mind the other day, you said no."

"What else would I say?"

"The truth!" She ran her hands through her hair. "Simple as that."

"Can't remember the last time anything was simple" he said bitterly, and although the words stung, what was more unsettling was how genuinely hurt he looked at this moment. He was right.

"I know" she replied quietly after a moment.

He shook his head sadly, looking very tired. "Everything just keeps going wrong, nothing is ever right. Nothing stays good. Every tiny thing screws things up."

She knew what he was talking about. She had been doing a lot of thinking on the long walk home from the gym, when she had noticed once again just how fragile her sense of safety was these days. It often seemed like things could never come naturally to her, or them, ever again. After everything they had been through together, they should be able to make it through anything, and sometimes, rarely, it felt like they could. But at other times, it felt like that was all they had left, pain and mutual dependency, and they were walking on eggshells around each other to avoid spiraling into the next crisis. They couldn't seem to get past the fact that they had seen each others' scars, that he had taken a pair of scissors from her and sat with her for the whole night, never forcing her to talk about anything. There was no lightness left once you had gone to those places.

"I want to do the right things but…I can't do more. Sorry. I just don't know…" He clenched and unclenched his left hand, struggling to find the right words. "I don't know how to fix it."

"Me neither. I'm sorry."


	4. Fix It

She threw away the tangerine peel and grabbed her coffee cup, leaning against the kitchen counter. She hadn't really felt like sitting down for a real breakfast, but there was still time for coffee.

Brian rushed in, glancing around the room while tucking in his shirt. Apparently, it was an office day, from the formal look of his outfit. "Have you seen my phone?"

"You left it on the counter again. I plugged it in to charge." She gestured over to the outlet behind the fruit bowl.

"Oh. Thanks." He unplugged the charger and slipped his cell into his pocket, turning to leave, but stopping in his tracks. "Er, look. About last night-"

"Let's not get into this now" she stopped him.

He frowned. "We have to talk about this."

"Not now, we don't. We have to be at work soon." She really didn't feel up to another argument at the start of what was going to be a long day, starting with a meeting with Barba to discuss evidence for a court case. She couldn't get distracted now.

"I don't want to keep putting it off. We'll talk more later, but I'm really sorry about last night. Standing you up was shitty of me. I just wanted to say that."

"You did." Her reply came out a little harsher than intended. She knew that she had overreacted last night as a result of stress. Being threatened at work hadn't helped.

"Won't happen again."

She laughed in spite of herself. "Come on..."

"Not when it's under my control anyway."

He was trying so hard to please her, so sweet and repentant that she just wanted to say "it's all right" again, like last time and the time before that, but she couldn't. It would have diverted from the actual issue, pretending that this was just about him forgetting one meeting. "We both know that's only part of the problem" she voiced the thought, breaking her resolution not to get into this now.

"Yeah. " He tugged at his tie uncomfortably, adjusting it. "But it's a part we can fix. I want to fix it. I love you."

She smiled at him sadly, in all his sincerity and trust. "Look, I don't want to be that person who holds you back or tells you where to be at what time, because I wouldn't want that, either. I don't want you to be with me because you have to, or because you said you would. Only because you want to."

"What? I'd much rather spend time with you than undercover or around Tucker, you know that."

She wasn't so sure of that. "You don't have to say that. It's okay. Just don't…" She paused, running her finger along the rim of her coffee cup. The morning light reflected off the red surface. "If this isn't working, don't stay because you don't want to be the bad guy who leaves after everything. You're a good guy."

He gaped at her incredulously. "Are you seriously trying to get me to break up with you over morning coffee?"

"No" she answered quickly, without thinking. It was her gut response. "I just don't want us to only stay together to see each other occasionally, out of convenience or because times are hard and we can't be alone."

He moved closer, around the counter so the physical barrier between them wasn't there anymore. She wasn't sure if she liked that right now, but she tolerated it. "Do you feel that way about us?" he asked calmly.

She thought about the question for a moment, wanting to answer honestly. It was hard to find the right words. "No. I mean, yes and no. I do love you. I just wish…it's hard to imagine happier times right now."

"We've had happy times." She looked up at him, as he slowly closed the distance between them. His expression was serious and attentive, but there was this particular softness in his eyes that often remained hidden outside these walls, a hint of emotion playing around his mouth as he studied her face. He gently took both of her hands into his, just holding them loosely. They stood like this for a moment, and she was suddenly grateful for the contact. She could feel the rough skin on his palms, and she knew that she didn't want to break that. She looked down at their joined hands.

He leaned in, ever so slightly, and she could sense the warmth of his body when he said: "I'm not with you because I feel sorry for you, okay? You make me happy."


	5. Life

0.03%. That was the proportion of pregnancies that took place in her age bracket, including all pregnancies brought about via IVF. Which was not to be confused with the odds of getting pregnant at her age, but still, the likelihood was slim. Google had more frightening statistics on offer: the risk of miscarriage before 20 weeks gestation, the risk of stillbirth, chance of delivering a baby with a chromosomal abnormality. Elderly primagravida was the official term for the, apparently, concerning condition of being pregnant at her age. If she was, hypothetically speaking. As much as she resented being referred to as "elderly", the statistics couldn't be denied. Number one: It was highly unlikely that she was pregnant at all. Number two: If she was pregnant, it might not last. Number three: Even if it did last, there were all sorts of risks attached, although the fact that she was healthy and in good physical shape was positive.

She clicked through the pages, reading piece after piece advocating pregnancy in your 20s, which wasn't exactly reassuring. This wasn't getting her anywhere, since Google couldn't tell her if she was or was not pregnant. All she knew was that it was theoretically possible, that there was no reason to believe she was going into menopause already, and that she had been ignoring certain ambiguous signs for too long to put off getting a pregnancy test any longer.

Even the thought of going out to buy the test made her feel slightly queasy. Buying it meant acknowledging that this might be real, and held the potential for disappointment. She didn't want to start thinking about having a baby, having a child again, when she might very well not be pregnant and her last chance might have passed long ago. She didn't want to start thinking "I should have done this sooner", "what if I had…", "what if we had…", "I wish I hadn't…".

And what if she was pregnant? If she was, it was about the last thing she had expected to happen at this point in time. It was something she wasn't prepared for right now, and she wasn't sure what that might mean for their volatile relationship. With the stress of the past year and her recent promotion, it wasn't a perfect time, but it was the last possible time. It would truly be a second chance, and after all, she was overall more "settled" now than she had been at any other point in her life. So in that sense, it was the perfect time. Really, if she was pregnant, the path was clearer: She would do anything she could to keep up the pregnancy, and she would love this child, no matter what happened or didn't happen with Brian, no matter what it meant in terms of work.

But, she reminded herself, it was unlikely that she was pregnant. With her luck, it was more likely to be some health issue or…no, it couldn't be that. It was almost embarrassing that she had let herself dream for a moment. She didn't want to start that again. She had yearned for a child for many years, too late in her life really, never at the right time, never with the right man. She had wanted to be a mother, and this sense of incompleteness had nagged at her. Being turned down for adoption had been the final straw, and the injustice of those many unwanted children in the world, or mistreated children, and the fact that she still wasn't good enough to be a mother as defined by her absence of family, her absence of a man, had been painful. Then, she had looked after Calvin, and lost Calvin again. It was years of unhappiness, not permanent unhappiness, but years of a sense that something was missing, that she couldn't be something, that she would never have a family or belong anywhere. She didn't want to enter into that again, not when she had finally gotten past it.

At some point past 40, it had become inevitably clear that she would never have a child of her own. And, more or less, she had begun to accept that. It was just the way things were. She had put a lot of energy into building a life for herself, doing nice things for herself, spending her money on herself. She had started dating again, taking time off work, making friends, going on vacations. She had fallen in love with David and, in spite of how it ended, she didn't regret it. She had gotten over Elliot's departure, not just from work but basically from her life. She had tried to reconnect with her brother, the only family that remained. There were other goals she had, like learning another foreign language, becoming a better cook. She had put nearly all her energy into work for years and realized that although she would never have a child of her own, she would have helped a great many. And now, there was Brian and their new apartment, and she had been looking forward to a new phase in a life, perhaps a phase consisting of commitment and newfound freedom. It was a good life, all things considered.

So why was she sitting here googling pregnancy information and making herself miserable? She should just go out, pick up the test and get it over with. Whatever the result was, she would be fine. No one would ever know, and nothing would be any different afterwards.

She was about to grab her things and go out to the pharmacy, when she heard the keys turning in the lock. Wow, he was home early. She quickly wiped the search history and closed the browser window.

"Hey, it's just me" he called.

"Hey." She shut down the computer and walked over to the foyer.

"You're home early" he commented, hanging up his jacket.

She leaned against the door frame. "Yeah. Just needed some time away from there."

"Bad day?"

She shrugged. "The usual trouble with going from peer to boss."

"Let me guess – Amaro again?" Even though Brian had done his best to be civil to him or, at the very least, avoid him while he'd been staying with them, it looked like the two of them would never get past their bad start.

"No. Rollins. She's been having some issues. I've tried being helpful, tried telling her off, but no change. Obviously, the others are covering for her, even Fin."

He smiled. "It's not like you haven't done that before."

"I know, but I've never been on the other side of it" she replied, annoyed.

"You'll figure it out." He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and put his arm around her, moving into the main room. She couldn't very well go and get the test now. She'd have to get it on the way to work tomorrow and do it there.

"I wish I knew what the Captain would have done."

"Cragen? He sort of had a way of making you see the right thing to do yourself. He'd show you and guilt trip you into doing it." Not a nice way of putting it, but pretty accurate. "Now Munch on the other hand, he'd leave it totally up to you but scare you shitless with horror scenarios."

"And me? I talk to her over and over again, but she doesn't see how serious the situation is."She leaned against the kitchen counter, running one hand through her hair.

"That's because you want to save people" he observed while opening the fridge.

"Everyone wants to protect their people."

"Not like you."He took out some zucchini and peppers, and rummaged through the cupboards for a cutting board.

"I guess sometimes, no matter what you do, you end up doing wrong by someone. If I take her off duty now, that could make the problem worse. If I ignore the problem and give her more time to fix it by herself, I could be putting people at risk."

"Tough choice." He stopped washing the vegetables for a moment, turning off the tap to listen to her. "So what are you going to do?"

"What I have to do. Give her a choice between fixing the problem off the record, or it's going on the record. There's really nothing else I can do." Even though she had brought it up herself, she was tired of discussing the subject. There were too many people's interests to balance at work, as well as that horrific case, and she couldn't stop thinking about the pregnancy test anyway. She suddenly felt exhausted.

"Hey. Cragen knew you could do this. He saw that. And Cragen was hardly ever wrong about anything."

She smiled in spite of herself. "Thanks for the pep talk."

He turned back to the fridge. "You want a beer?"

"No, thanks."

"You all right?"

"Yeah, just tired. And trying to cut back a little." That part was actually half true. She had been drinking too much lately, and misusing it as her only way of unwinding. She didn't want to end up like her mother.

"All right. You mind if I…?"

"No, go ahead. Actually, I have an errand to run, but I'll be quick. You mind starting dinner without me?"

"No. Go."


	6. Shattering

Baby Doe. That's what she had been forced to record the child they had discovered as. Just that, no name, no identity, something discarded. She couldn't understand how it was possible that this baby was simply not wanted. Cognitively, perhaps, but she couldn't really comprehend it. She knew she wasn't thinking clearly at the moment, that her judgment was clouded by her own situation, but after everything, after finding Nicky alive and getting those girls out of there, after what should have been a "happy ending" as far as happy endings were possible in their department, it was this simple fact that stuck with her.

To be fair, it hadn't really been a surprise when her own test was negative. The chance had always been a slim one, and she hadn't been expecting anything. It wasn't like she had been planning and trying to have a baby. This didn't change a thing. It only meant that her life was still on course, her career on track and her finances in order with nothing to rattle the peace she was still struggling so hard to figure out. It wouldn't have been a good time, anyway, after everything. Except that she had, against her will, been picturing herself with a child, or all three of them as a family, wondering where it would sleep, wondering what kind of father Brian would be, if she could do it, if it would be a boy or a girl. She had gotten used to the idea of this miracle baby and family, as unlikely and brief as it had been. Now, the reality that this was never going to happen, along with the finality of it all, the fact that this was the last pregnancy test she would ever take, hit her more strongly than expected. She was no longer a woman who could do that. This was one thing she had not achieved in her life.

So she had curled up on the couch, crying and scaring poor Brian who had walked in on the scene after his morning run without a clue what was wrong. He was used to her withdrawing from him when she was upset, or yelling at him at the most, not bursting into tears in front of him. She hadn't wanted to let herself fall apart like that, but it had been a long night spent at the precinct sorting out the paperwork and PR stuff to close the case and, instead of going home and straight to sleep for a few hours before returning to work, she had simply pulled another all-nighter. And spent the entire way home trying to hold it together. The grey of dawn had crept up outside by the time she got home, and she had been unable to stop thinking about Nicky, the girls, Alexa, Baby Doe.

Brian brought her a cup of tea, which was sweet since she hadn't asked him to do that, and sat down next to her, stroking her hair. "You want me to call in sick for you?"

"No."

"Want me to call Dr. Lindstrom?"

"No. Thanks." She would call him herself later. "Just…give me a minute. I'm okay."

"Okay" he said, sounding doubtful but dropping it.

She sat up a little, wiping the tears from her face and trying to take deep, calming breaths. He put his arm up on the back rest of the sofa, subtly offering support if she wanted it. She leaned back against his shoulder, pulling her knees up to her chest. He lightly kissed her forehead and stayed still, not saying anything but simply waiting. She was glad he didn't feel a need to press the issue. Brian had acquired the rare gift of being able to just sit with someone, offering support without having to know what was wrong or making it go away. In any case, after how he'd reacted to even the slightest possibility of a pregnancy, he was the last person she wanted to discuss this with.

"Don't you need to get ready for work?" she finally asked.

"Not right now" he said, stroking her hair. "But you should try and sleep a little."

"Can't."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"If it's work-"

"It's not work. Not entirely."

"Oh." That seemed to scare him more, she observed as she felt his upper body muscles tense. He probably assumed it was about Lewis.

A couple more tears rolled down her face, and she wiped them away angrily. She hated that even this could be tainted by Lewis going through her mind, even this completely different issue, that everything good or bad that happened in her life seemed to be intertwined with her assailant. "I just realized today that there's something we will never have." And the difference between them was, he didn't want it.

"What?" he asked hesitantly. He had to know what she was getting at.

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter now." She couldn't get out the words.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, kissing her forehead again. She didn't know how much of what had transpired he grasped, but for this moment alone, he seemed to share her sadness.

They sat in silence for a moment, and she picked up her tea and forced herself to drink a little. It was that soothing bedtime tea she had once bought in the hope of avoiding sleeping pills. The hotness of the beverage felt good in her throat, and she finally noticed a great fatigue washing over her. Placebo effect. "I think I'm going to try and catch a bit of sleep." She got up slowly from the sofa. "You should grab that shower and get to work."

He looked up at her uncertainly.

"Go" she repeated, walking away towards the bedroom.

"I'll call you later, okay?"

"You don't need-"

"I'll call. Oh, and Liv, before I forget-"

She turned around again, hoping he wasn't going to say anything important because she wasn't able to take in any more.

"-I know this isn't a good time and we can totally talk about it later-"

"Just get to the point."

"My sister called yesterday. I meant to tell you, but- anyway, we talked, and she'd love to meet you. If that's okay. She invited us over for dinner next week."

A sister. She racked her brains for what she knew about his family. He was a bit of a momma's boy. There was one older sister, but not by much. He had mentioned going to visit her and the kids –kids, yes, there were kids- once, but that had been a while ago, before they had moved in together. "That's nice of her" she managed, surprised. At any other time, she might have reacted with more joy.

"Yeah. But if it isn't a good time, then we can postpone." She could tell from his hopeful expression that he didn't want to postpone.

"No, accept."


	7. Family

"That smells delicious" she commented. "What is it?"

"Chicken with a honey mustard glaze, couscous and salad. I hope you're not vegetarian – Brian didn't say." Jessica threw a reprimanding glance her brother's way.

"I'm not, and that looks wonderful."

"Yeah" Brian agreed, taking the salad bowl from his sister's hands and setting it down on the table. "Thanks for the invitation."

"Mmmh, yummy!" Nathaniel exclaimed. The seven-year-old had been wriggling around on his chair impatiently, unable to sit still.

His mother was quick to give him the task of getting serving utensils, while asking her daughter to go fetch a jar of water and some juice. While the little boy rushed to do his task, his big sister rolled her eyes and moved sluggishly.

"You're sure I can't help you with anything?" Olivia asked again, feeling slightly uncomfortable with being served like that.

"Oh no, it's all ready." Jessica brought in the oven dish and set it down in front of them. "Careful, it's hot."

They sat down to eat at the table, which had been beautifully set. Olivia was moved by the effort Brian's sister was clearly making to impress them. She hadn't really sat down for dinner at a "family table" in ages, not since that time years ago when Kathy Stabler had invited her over. Eli had been a toddler then, and she remembered how nice it had been to be around so many kids of various ages, to see Elliot in his home environment, but how hollow it had made her feel when she had gone home alone. But this was different. This was her boyfriend's only family, whom he had wanted her to meet, and they wanted her to feel welcome. It wasn't a reminder of what she couldn't have, but a hope of what she might have.

The second they had sat down, Nathaniel had immediately begun questioning his uncle about his police work – whether he'd ever been in a car chase, if cars really did explode when they crashed, if they drove around with sirens all the time, if all the cars really had to get out of the way when he raced past, if he'd ever been in a gun fight, if he'd ever been shot – at this, his mother visibly winced and told the boy to let his uncle eat.

Meanwhile, Reah, the teenager sitting across from Olivia, kept checking her cell phone under the table, despite reprimands from her mother. She had barely said a word to them so far, although she had clearly been happy to see them, running down the stairs and hugging Brian when they had arrived. She looked a lot like a younger, taller, more fashionable version of her mother, with long, straightened red hair, the kind of overdone make-up that only girls her age could get away with and freckles she had tried to cover up. Her brother was the exact opposite, a head of dark curls he refused to let his mother cut falling into his dark eyes. Olivia could see a certain family resemblance in Brian and Jessica, who were both naturally tall and skinny, with deep-set, clear eyes and a pronounced chin. However, Jessica had long, thick red hair with a tiny streak of grey at the front, and a different smile from his. She was soft-spoken and forward at the same time, despite her slight nervousness. Olivia had taken an instant liking to her.

As Brian began entertaining the kids with exciting police stories, Jessica turned to her. "So Brian told me that you actually used to work together a long time ago, and that you didn't see each other for, what, 12 years? And then met again through a case."

"Yeah, something like that." She smiled at the memory. "We're lucky."

"That's wonderful. You know, he's never brought anyone over. Never. The kids were so excited. I wish we could see him more often, but I guess it's hard with his work- your work."

"Unfortunately, that's true. But we'd still be happy to have you over sometime. I know it takes an hour to get into the city from here, but the subway goes straight through."

Jessica beamed at her. "I'd love that. You know, I can't quite believe he's living with a woman. Does he still have that awful old leather couch, the one with the holes he taped over?"

She laughed. Her first acquaintance with the piece of furniture had left her less than impressed. "No, we got rid of that, thankfully. He was pretty good about it. But have you seen his cattle skull?"

"Oh dear…well, at least you took all the important pieces."

"You have a cattle skull, Brian?" This finally piqued Reah's interest and prompted her to put her cell phone away. She had used to call him "Uncle Brian", her mother said, but apparently, that wasn't cool anymore.

"Uh, yeah." He pointed his fork at her. "Don't make fun of Bruce."

"Bruce?!" The kids burst out laughing.

"He's from a trip I took with some friends years ago, okay? There's a story behind it."

"Of course there is" Olivia agreed with grave seriousness, participating in the teasing.

"Hey, I've always thought he adds a personal touch to our apartment."He reached for her hand under the table.

"You live together?" Nathaniel inquired, looking back and forth between them curiously.

"Yes."

"Are you gonna get married?"

Olivia nearly choked on her sip of water, coughing. Brian's face turned bright red. Reah grinned at her little brother's forward question.

"Nat!" his mother exclaimed. "It's rude to be so curious. That's private."

"Sorry. Are you, though? Can I do something in the wedding?" This interrogation was not heading into a good direction.

"Asking that is even ruder" Jessica scolded.

"It's all right" Brian finally managed. "Uh, we have no plans right now."

"So that's a no?" Reah asked.

"No" he replied quickly, with a side glance at Olivia. She nodded in what she hoped was a reassuring manner, and didn't pull her hand away. "I mean, it's not a no." He looked at his sister helplessly.

"That's enough questions about that" she said firmly.

"Fine" Nathaniel mumbled, trying to stab a tomato in his salad.

"So, Reah" Brian turned to his niece, trying to change the subject. "Last time I saw you, you were in the eighth grade. How's high school?"

"Good" she answered.

"You like your teachers?"

"Some."

"And you made new friends?"

"Yeah."

_Smooth change of subject. _Olivia could barely hide her amusement at his attempt to extract information out of a teenage girl. "You're a freshman, right? I remember when I was a freshman, all the girls in my class wanted to be cheerleaders, although we didn't even have any good sports teams at my school."

Reah grimaced. "I hate cheerleaders."

"She's on the basketball team, though" her mother helpfully offered some information. "They've been winning a number of games."

"Really? That's awesome."

"I'm only JV."

"Still cool" Brian said. "I played basketball in high school, but I wasn't any good. You ever been to a real game?"

"Yeah" her face lit up. "Once, with Dad. The Knicks were playing, but they lost."

"They've been doing a lot of that lately" Olivia replied.

"Nuh-uh, Rickie says they're gonna have a winning streak this year." Nathaniel corrected her.

"Let's hope he's right."

The boy's expression turned dreamy. "We were sitting at the very back, and there were hot dogs and foam fingers and popcorn, but Dad brought a spyglass-"

"He brought binoculars, stupid" Reah interjected roughly, clearly upset by the memory.

"Same thing!"

"Who cares about the food there was? You weren't even watching the game."

"Yeah, well, you only play JV, what do you know about it!"

"Guys…" Jessica sighed. "Stop it."

"Can we go to another game this year, Mom?" Nathaniel asked hopefully.

She shrugged evasively. "I don't know that we can get tickets."

"Maybe I could-" Brian started, but stopped when his sister gave him a warning look. Still, Olivia had registered as much as him that they had been presented with an opportunity to do something nice for the family.

"Maybe" the boy repeated to himself, and resumed cutting his chicken.

"Maybe means no" his sister elaborated. "Tickets are expensive."

"Hey, guys, maybe we could all get along for one night while Uncle Brian and Olivia are here" Jessica suggested, offering them more food.

"Thank you, it tastes great, but I'm full" she declined with a smile. It really had tasted amazing and she hadn't felt so full in a while.

"Well, I hope you left room for dessert."

"Mom made cherry cobbler." Nathanial explained.

"I believe there's always room for cherry cobbler." She smiled at the boy, who had resumed digging into his food while his sister preferred to push hers back and forth on the plate. "You know, Jessica, I've been wondering if you could tell me a little about what Brian was like as a child." She couldn't hold back her curiosity any longer, and this was a relatively safe subject.

"Oh" she laughed. "He was a clown. Always playing pranks on people –never anything serious, really- but he drove our parents crazy."

"Don't exaggerate" Brian interrupted.

"Am I? Remember the neighbours' letter boxes?"

"What about them?" Nathaniel asked.

"I'm not giving you ideas. Well, he wasn't great in school, but he did his best. The girls loved him. Teachers loved him. He was a lot of fun, even though he sometimes got picked on."

"I can imagine that" she said, thinking of what Brian had been like years ago, when he'd been the newbie of the precinct.

"There was that time when he only wore one T-shirt to school every single day."

"Ew, gross!" Reah exclaimed.

"Kind of." he admitted. "But it was my The Clash T-shirt."

"London calling to the faraway towns…" Jessica sang in a fake British accent.

"Weird generation." Reah shook her head, looking from one sibling to the other with so much serious wisdom that it provoked all around laughter from the adults at the table. "Hey, what was Mom like as a kid?"

"Your mom? Aw, well" he looked at his sister thoughtfully. "She was good. Real good, a great big sister. She covered for me with our parents, kept me out of trouble. She was smart in school, not like me but real book smart. Even though she spent half her time with these long-haired rocker guys." She had a feeling they were getting the sanitized version here.

Her daughter's jaw dropped. "Mom, really? Who would have thought."

"Believe it or not, honey, I was once young."

"Did you always want to be a cop, Uncle Brian? Even in school?" Nathaniel asked, still gazing at his uncle in admiration as he had been doing all evening. Olivia was only beginning to realize how important having a male role model seemed to be in this child's life. He needed to see his niece and nephew more often.

"Not always. But I wanted to help people, and the fire department wouldn't take me."

"I want to be a cop when I grow up."

Brian smiled. "You have plenty of time to think about that."

"And you're a cop, too?" he asked Olivia.

"Yes, I am."

"Do lady cops have guns, too?"

"Uh, yeah, we do" she said, slightly bewildered at the awkward question. "But just like male police officers, we don't carry them around with us all the time, because that wouldn't be safe. You know, we don't want anyone getting hurt. We only use guns as a last resort."

"Some of the best police officers are women" Brian added. "Like Olivia, she's the boss of her department."

The boy frowned. "Dad says some jobs are only for men, that women aren't supposed to take them away."

Olivia watched Jessica and Brian visibly stiffen at the comment, and she tried hard to think of a response that wouldn't agree with the misogynistic comment, but wouldn't put down Nathaniel's father, either.

It was Reah who broke the awkward pause. "Dad said a lot of dumb crap."

"Don't talk about Dad like that!"

"Don't repeat everything he said like a stupid parrot!"

Nathaniel jumped up from his chair, trying to hit his sister's arm, but she pulled away in time. "You're the one who's stupid! I hate you!" He ran out of the room, and they could hear him sobbing as he ran up the stairs.

"Was that really necessary?" Jessica asked her daughter angrily, getting up from the table. "Excuse me…" She went after her son, leaving the three of them to sit in front of their empty or half-empty plates.

Reah deliberately began picking up some couscous she had been neglecting and eating it. "Delicious."

"What was that all about?" her uncle asked. "Are you mad at Nat?"

"Nope." She shrugged. "He just misses Dad."

"I think that's understandable" Olivia said sympathetically.

Brian looked at his niece, concerned. "What about you? Don't you miss him?"

"No. Dad's a jerk. Let him stay with his sk- his 'girlfriend'." She indicated some air quotes around the word. "See if I care."

"And he hasn't called at all?"

"No. Oh well. Mom's right, we're better off without him."

Olivia got the feeling that the teenager had been pulled into too much of that conflict as it was. "Are you doing okay though?"

"Fine" she shrugged carelessly, glancing down at her cell phone again. "Hey, sorry, but I promised a friend I'd call her back earlier. Is that okay? It'll literally take two seconds max."

"Sure" Brian agreed. They had finished eating anyway.

"Poor kids" Olivia remarked as Reah left the room.

"Yeah" he sighed. "I mean it's been a long time coming, but still."

"Come on, let's start clearing away the plates. I don't think they'll want to eat more when they return, anyway."

They started cleaning up and by the time both kids and their mother had returned for dessert, the mood had lifted somewhat, aided by the best cherry cobbler Olivia had eaten in her life. The kids began to warm to Olivia, and were even moderately pleasant to each other. Jessica gave them a tour of the house, and Nathaniel insisted on showing them all his favourite toys, refusing to go to bed until Brian sat down with him and only him to tell him one last police story. This gave the two women a chance to talk, while Reah retreated to her own room. At the end of the night, Jessica made them promise to return soon, while Brian insisted that she call them if she needed anything.

When the door closed behind them, Brian put his arm around Olivia's shoulders, and she wrapped hers back around his waist. The night air was freezing around them, and she could see the clouds their breaths made. "So, what do you think? Good night?"

"Great night. That was so sweet of her. You have a really nice family."

"Yeah, Jess is great, and she really likes you. I should call her more often."

"You should! Those kids adore you."

"I think they adore my gun more than me."

"Hm-mh."

"Sorry if it was a little…messy. Things haven't been the same since John took off."

"You think messy scares me? They were wonderful, it was a perfect night." She looked at his face. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"For this." For introducing her to his family like it was no big deal, when it clearly was, for making time tonight, for being so sweet with these kids. Somehow, she felt like seeing him around his family had made her love him just a little more.

"Oh. Well, it's family. And you're family" he said casually. "Listen, about what I said before, when Nat kept asking-"

"It's fine. We're good where we are."

"But I don't want you to think that we…what I meant by 'no' is that right now-"

"Don't." She put her finger to his lips to silence him. "It's all good."

She gave him a quick kiss on the lips, and they resumed their walk.

"Hey, did you notice that your phone didn't ring once tonight? That's new."

"I think that might have something to do with Nick. I told him where we were going tonight, and he was very quick to tell me that everything would be fine, that I would not be needed under any circumstances, that it was really 'just a quiet weekday night'. I hope the place still stands tomorrow."

"You'll just have to trust him."


	8. Running

They were just going over the crime scenes photos on Fin's tablet together, when her cell phone rang once again. She didn't recognize the number on the display, but answered anyway. "Hello?" She held up her forefinger, mouthing "one second" to Fin to ask him to wait.

"Olivia, hi, it's Jordan Lamar, from Brian's office."

Brian's partner? She tried to picture his face, her mind still half on the gruesome images in front of her, but from their one brief encounter, it was hard to recall. All she remembered was that Brian liked him. "Hi, Jordan."

"Listen, have you heard from Brian recently?"

Her attention immediately shifted to the phone call. "No. Should I have heard from him?" Where had he found out her cell phone number, anyway? Where, but his file under "emergency contact"?

"I don't know. I was just wondering."

Her heart immediately sank to her stomach. Brian had been away undercover for days again, which wasn't that unusual. Their regular arrangement was that he didn't tell her anything about where he was going, and that they wouldn't have any contact unless he called her, which was generally only to check in and say that everything was fine, or to tell her he was coming home. He hadn't called. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about yet" the younger detective said in that calming voice reserved for civilians, which made her worry more.

"You've lost contact?"

"Basically."

"How long ago?"

"It's possible that it just wasn't safe to make con-"

"When did you last speak to him?"

There was a pause at the other end, clearly so Jordan could make a decision on how much to tell her. He went for honesty. "Yesterday morning. We were supposed to be done with the operation by today, but he hasn't checked in and now we've lost track of him."

She clutched her phone, trying to contain her anger. "How can you lose track of your people? Back-up is the essence of undercover."

"Last time we talked, he said he'd stop wearing his wire, that it was too dangerous."

_Shit, Brian. _How did he always end up with the worst jobs, in situations like this one? "And you had no back-up plan for pulling him out?!"

"He hasn't been in touch."

"Where was he? What was the operation?"

"You know I can't tell you that."

"Jordan, if I give you the order to divulge information, it's my call, not yours. I'll be responsible for it." Abusing her seniority in front of witnesses in an area where she had no actual power, very smart. But this was more important.

He hesitated. "I'm sorry, Sergeant. I can't say more." Clearly. The fact that he was calling her on her cell, rather than making an official visit asking official questions, said it all. "Try Tucker."

There was a useless suggestion. "Can I meet you somewhere?"

"Uh, not right now, I'm going over our next steps. I'll find him, okay?"

"Can-"

"I gotta go now. Sorry. I'll keep you posted. If he makes contact, can you just keep him calm and find out where he is?"

"Yes." She was irritated that he felt a need remind her of that. Something about this conversation was very odd. She tried to listen closely, in case Jordan was trying to tell her something.

"Thanks. Talk to you soon."

"Bye." She touched the disconnect symbol and stared at her phone for a moment, trying to figure out her options.

"Trouble?" Fin, who had been standing in front of her the whole time, asked.

"Yes. Brian. Don't know what kind of trouble yet."

"They lose track of him?"

"Yep."

"Need me to look into anything?" His tone was casual, and she knew that if she needed anyone's inofficial help on this, Fin would be the guy who would ask no questions, do it and keep quiet.

"No, thanks." She wasn't going to pull him into this just yet, not before knowing what it actually was.

"Okay."

"Uh, just go ahead with that" she gestured at the crime scene photos, "it sounds like you're right about the connection between the rapes."

She walked straight through the squad room to Cragen's- to the Captain's office. It wasn't in use at the moment, but she frequently had to go in there to look things up. Cragen had been a fan of printing out his files, rather than keeping a digital copy only. She closed the door behind her and immediately speed dialed the number.

One beep. Two beeps. _Pick up!_ Three beeps. He had to know that something was wrong if she was trying to reach him. Four beeps. Her mind went into crisis management mode, forestalling all emotion. There were four options: He didn't want to pick up (Because he was busy? Because he didn't want to talk to anyone?), he didn't have his phone on him, he was with people and couldn't be overheard talking to her, and he couldn't pick up (Because he was in trouble? Because his cover had been blown?). The call went to his mailbox. She didn't leave a message; there was no need, he would see the call had come from her, anyway, and who knew who might be listening at the other end?

She considered her options. There was no one she knew at IA who would divulge any more information. She lacked the access rights and skill to get into their computer system. Had Brian dropped a hint, said anything at all about this operation? The last thing he had been working on before had been something to do with drugs; he had made a comment the other night regarding how his time with Narcotics was coming in handy. It made sense to put him on a drug case. Drug cases and IA were a high risk scenario, although, she reminded herself, he had plenty of experience and knew how to stay safe. Could she get in touch with Barba and gently probe him for information on current operations? No, despite the somewhat guilty way he'd been acting with her and his general respect for her, he was far too professional to tell her anything that wasn't in her domain.

Her phone rang again, and she nearly threw it down trying to pry it out of her pocket quickly. Unknown number – a landline. "Hello?"

"Liv?"

A tremendous relief washed over her at the sound of his voice. "Brian? Where are you?!" So much for staying calm.

"They asked you about me, didn't they?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes. What's going on?"

"I…I can't go back." He coughed, turning away from the phone from the sound of it. Why was he calling from this number? A payphone, she realized, visualizing the digits she had seen on the display.

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Are you in any immediate danger?"

"No."

She checked the two points off her mental list, although it had taken him slightly longer to answer the second question. "Do you need back-up?" She already knew the answer. If he had wanted back-up, he would have contacted his unit. So why was he phoning her?

"No."

"Where are you?" she tried again.

The only reply she got was a shaky intake of breath at the other end of the line.

This was getting scary. She tried to concentrate on any background sounds. There was traffic around him, but nothing else. "Can you tell me what's going on?"

"No. I…sorry…shit…I blew it. I messed up." He sounded like he was going into shock.

She needed to keep him talking now if she was hoping to extract any information. "Messed up how?"

"I couldn't do anything. I blew my cover…I think…I can't go back…"

"Brian" She hoped using his name would help him focus. "You don't have to go back, okay? But your unit's worried, they've been trying to get in touch with-"

"I know. I can't…I don't know…"

What if he had actually done something terrible, harmed someone enough to get in trouble? Then that would be something to deal with when she found him, she decided. Right now, what had taken place didn't matter and he clearly wasn't going to tell her, anyway. If only the computer were up and running right now, so she could simultaneously run the number through the system. Payphones were the easiest to locate, but she didn't want people overhearing their conversation outside. "Okay. Then I'll come meet you, only me. Just tell me where."

"I-" "One minute remaining" a mechanical voice interrupted. "-come home."

"You're coming home? All right." Unless he had actually done something bad, in which case coming home wasn't making things easier at all…


	9. Screwed

She had been waiting at their apartment for over an hour after prying herself away from work by the time he finally arrived. It had been a frustrating hour of trying to prepare for the unknown, going over legal options and considering whether to inform IA or not, and what to tell them if they did decide to ask her again. They were on thin ice here.

When she finally rushed to the door, she really didn't know what to expect. What she got was a mess of a man, pale and sweaty, with dirt on his shirt and a tear around the left shoulder. "Damn it, you need a doctor!"

"No! No."

She tried to assess any visible signs of injury: He was walking unsteadily, but not limping, keeping one hand clutched to his right abdomen. There was no blood on his clothes, she noticed with relief, but his knuckles were cracked and she could see a laceration above his left eye and some swelling around the upper cheek area, as well as several lighter grazes. Signs of blunt force trauma, she concluded, forcing herself to remain detached in her observations, but not of the severity of an accident or beating intended to injure or kill.

She led him over to a chair. "Here, sit down."

"I'm okay" he mumbled as she went to grab the first aid kit she had prepared and an ice pack from the freezer.

"Did you receive a blow to the head?"

"A couple of punches but…nothing serious." He was answering her questions clearly and seemed more collected than earlier. Good.

She sat down in a chair facing him and handed him the ice pack, wrapped in a dishcloth. "Here."

He pressed it to his cheek. His eyes showed no signs of being bloodshot and his pupils were of normal, equal sizes. His breathing seemed even to her. She began to disinfect the laceration above his eye as gently as possible, but he still flinched away from the sting. "Sorry." It didn't look like it needed stitches.

Only now, sitting so close she had to spread her knees, did she notice the smell of alcohol on his breath. "Have you been drinking?"

"Only one drink…after…"

"You thought it was a good idea to call me, then walk into a bar and drink before coming home?" she exclaimed, more concerned than angry. She knew he sometimes made rash decisions, but this was insensible even for him, both on the grounds of his physical condition and mental state, as well as the next steps he needed to take.

"Needed to clear my head."

She suspected that the alcohol had done little to help his state of mind, other than calming his nerves a little, but kept that to herself. This wasn't the time for reproaches, and it was his resignation, his letting her take charge like this, that worried her the most right now. "What from?"

He remained silent, then touched her wrist, stalling her movements. "Please stop."

She lowered her hand from his face, giving him some space. "Whatever it is" she said quietly. "We'll figure it out." She wasn't actually sure of that last part at all, but it was all the reassurance she had.

"Nothing to figure out. I'm screwed. Again."

"What happened? The operation went wrong?"

He exhaled heavily. "It wasn't supposed to be a big operation in the first place. Just some uniforms, rookies who were suspected of doing a little business on the side – impounding, confiscating drugs and reselling, that sort of thing. Anyway, things happened and, turns out, they're not just some kids trying to make extra cash by ripping off small time dealers. They're actually in with some of the biggest scum in the city, and they got a kind of network of their sort that turns a blind eye as long as they get their share of the profits. I mean, really, I shouldn't have been surprised" he laughed bitterly. "I told IA that I couldn't go there, that some of these guys already knew me from my time with Ganzel. I told White, I told Tucker, but they said that I was getting close. I wasn't, really, they didn't trust me anyway. It would have taken years to get there. Another few years of UC on this case, there's a prospect… No, they let me stand outside at most while they did their business."He winced, holding his side.

"Let me…?" She untucked his shirt and pulled it up carefully, revealing a large, dark bruise on the side of his stomach. "Ouch. Punch or kick?"

"Punch."

"We should really get you checked out." She touched his good hand, and he curled his fingers around hers.

"Not now."

"What happened next?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing while he was opening up to her.

"They went to meet a dealer, a pimp down by the docks, you know, where the…the really young ones are." Child prostitutes. "I was supposed to wait in the car, just wait for them to return. I wasn't gonna collect evidence that way, but anyway, I stayed in the area, just walking around. And I walked and…and I found her. She was just lying there, beside the garbage bags, _in _the garbage. She was completely out of it. The last john, he'd- he'd not even bothered to cover her up again. She was just naked from the waist down. Or maybe it wasn't a john at all, maybe it was just some random guy who walked by and took what he wanted, who knows. Her legs were…blue from the cold. There were injection marks everywhere. I could see that two of her front teeth were missing. And she was just lying there, you know, in the garbage…" He broke off. His voice had been flat, devoid of any feeling up to this point.

She circled her thumb across his fingers lightly, doing nothing to interrupt the pause.

"Even though she weighed, like, 80 pounds now, I could tell that it was Dominique."

"Who's Dominique?" she asked, when he didn't offer an explanation.

He seemed lost in his own world, staring off into space.

"Bri? Who's Dominique?"

"A girl I knew from UC. I met her three, four years ago –not via Ganzel, he didn't do underage girls, too risky- through one of his girls, Jasmine. She was 14 then, and she'd been in this country since she was 11, doing the work since she was 12. We talked; her English was real good; she was from Haiti. Nice girl, rough time though. I tried to do what I could without being obvious, got her a place in a shelter. Told myself she'd made it." He shook his head. "Stupid, really."

"So what happened then?"

"I couldn't leave her there. I guess I could have phoned an ambulance and taken off, and left it at that, but I couldn't. She barely had a pulse. I called an ambulance, and…I covered her up with my jacket, and I waited. And it took…I don't know how long it took, but it- it was too long. I heard the sirens, but I stayed. Too late. And she was cold." He couldn't go on, staring blankly ahead.

"I'm sorry" she whispered, containing her own emotions. She had seen many young girls die this way, and she knew Brian could hardly be new to it from his work in Narcotics, but she could sense that this was different. There had been a connection with the victim here. That always made it hard.

"And she might still have family, back in Haiti, you know, and now they'll never know. She's just an anonymous body."

She could have said "maybe they'll find a way of reaching them", but she would have been lying and Brian was the last person to buy into it. There was no comfort to offer at this point. "You tried to help her."

"Yeah, well, a great load of good that did. You know what the saddest part is? Back then, they were always telling me to back off, to stop 'risking the operation', and even now, they'd probably tell me we're working for a 'larger goal' here, that catching these guys will be worth it." His apathy was making way for anger now. "But there's always more, more corrupt cops, more drugs, more vics. It's pointless. And at some point, you're not a good guy posing as a bad guy anymore, you're just as bad."

"No" she replied firmly. "The difference is that you tried to help her. You did the right thing. You couldn't have just left her there, that would have been a failure of duty."

"Doesn't matter. She died, and I blew the operation."

"What happened when the unis got back?"

"They were pissed. I tried to pass it off as a weak moment of sorts, told them some soppy story about a dead ex, but yeah, someone who gets upset over the customers isn't really a credible drug dealer. I was lucky that they only wanted to rough me up a little, but I'm sure they're trying to come up with a plan right now on how to shut me up for good. So I bailed, without waiting for orders." He lowered the ice pack from his face.

"Good thing you did. You had no choice. Why didn't you call someone though?"

"I don't know." He looked at her apologetically, and she believed him that he really couldn't think right now, that he had been reacting on instinct alone. But it was important that he got his story straight, and fast. It wasn't like him to lose his nerve like that, not after everything he had been through undercover. "I just wanted to get out of there. They're going to ask questions."

"Yeah, they are. Look, we don't have a lot of time. You know you have to check in with them. Obviously, I can't tell you what to say, but don't do their job for them. Don't poke holes into your own story." The part that worried her wasn't what he had done –she was relieved that he hadn't actually hurt anyone, and had gotten out of there safely- but the fact that he wasn't good with this sort of thing at the best of times, and right now, he was feeling guilty over the dead girl. They would have an easy time with him.

"I have to tell the truth."

"Yes. But you didn't do anything wrong" she insisted. "You tried to save a civilian's life, endangering your own. Your cover was at risk, so you made a judgement call and pulled out in time. You got hurt –you need to file a report on that- and that's why you didn't make contact right away. That's all."

"That's all" he echoed.


	10. Justifying

"I'm sorry!" she shouted, hurrying up the stairs. "Got held up at work. I meant to be here twenty minutes ago."

He had been leaning against the railing despite the cold wind, lost in thought. "It's fine."

"No, it's not" she panted. She had promised to meet him after his hearing. "How did it go?"

"No demotion" he told her, cutting to the chase. "I was lucky."

"That's great!" She was relieved to hear it. Another demotion would have hit him hard, and ended his career for good. "And only right."She took his hand and they started to descend down the stairs slowly.

"Yeah, fair" he agreed, not looking happy at all. "They told me to take some time off though, and I'll be on desk duty for a while."

It was the lesser evil, the smallest measure they could take, and she understood it more now that she had taken on management duties herself. They had been forced to react in some way, and this was pretty mild all things considered. "You'll get back in the field."

He shook his head. "You don't understand. Remember that psych eval they sprung on me the other day?"

"Yeah."

"I failed it."

"What do you mean?"

"The only reason they went soft on me is because they're convinced I was out of my mind. Apparently, I'm too insane to be held responsible."

"What exactly did they say?" "Insane" seemed a tad dramatic. The wind kept blowing her hair into her face, and she pushed it back so she could read his expression.

"Something about role confusion, rash actions under stress, depressive tendencies. They say I lack distance. 'Detective Cassidy has repeatedly demonstrated an insufficient ability to maintain professional boundaries.'"

"What?" An evaluation like that could really hurt his career.

"Yep. After all these operations, that's their conclusion. They send you there, tell you to blend in, tell you to become one of the group, and then they tell you you lack boundaries? Honestly? They create the stress, and then tell you you can't handle it!"

"I don't understand." The reason they kept giving him undercover assignments was that he was good at it. A little too good, perhaps, and yes, there had been that relationship with Carissa, but the weaknesses listed in the evaluation were exactly what made him so effective. He could blend in entirely, without being turned. "This was based on what happened with this case alone?"

"More on the psych check-up, I think. I should have lied in the evaluation. I should have just told them what they wanted to hear."

Yes, probably, but he had been angry and strained after the operation blew up. "Everyone struggles with psych evals. So what now?"

"They'll re-evaluate if I…" He sighed. "If I see a shrink. Doesn't have to be an internal one at least, but still…"

"Oh." She considered her words carefully. "That might not be so bad."

"What are you saying?"

"It might help to talk to someone impartial. Help you cope with the pressure."

"Believe me, the last thing I want is to make it into a problem by talking about it. I'm fine!"

"Well" she stopped, and he let go of her hand, walking ahead. "You have been sort of…bitter about things." She recalled his comments on the pointlessness of his work, the lack of hope about the future. Although she couldn't agree with the negative assessment, she couldn't entirely disagree, either.

He turned around. "Wait a minute, you're on their side?"

"Come on, you know I'm on your side." She hated when he split the world into sides like that. At the same time, she knew that as much as he complained about his undercover work, he wasn't someone who could sit at a desk shuffling paper and making decisions. He needed the risk, the hands-on work, and he saw that being threatened. "That's not the point. But if you have to go see someone anyway, you might as well make use of it."

"Looks like I don't have a choice" he replied, still frustrated.

"There's nothing wrong with getting help." She was a bit disappointed that he, too, clung to the stigma of therapy like that, despite his supportiveness of her own sessions. The prospect of talking to someone about himself almost seemed to scare him. And in a way, it was frightening.

"I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, I get it" she said, not wanting to fight about this. "So go there, talk to him or her…and give IA a reason to re-evaluate."

"I'll try."

"Want to go grab dinner somewhere?"

"I can't. I said I'd meet Munch for drinks, remember?"

"Ah, right." She had momentarily forgotten. This was good. She wasn't sure how supportive Munch would be about the whole therapy issue since he tended to see it as a tool of an oppressive system, but John was the right person to rant about the system to, the right person to exchange conspiracy theories with.

"Want to come with? He'd be happy to see you."

"No, do your guy thing." She didn't mind the chance to get some time to herself. Maybe she'd call a friend tonight for a change.


	11. 430 Days

"I say we take a short break in New Haven, and then drive straight through, on to Massachussetts" she suggested, risking a quick glance sideways at the map in Brian's lap.

"Sounds good." She knew he wasn't keen on cities and architecture.

"Did you check the route?"

"What do you mean? It's all the same highway." He could be so annoyingly careless about these things. If it weren't for her, they would still be sitting at home without a plan.

"Do you know where we are?"

"Of course I know."

"Yeah?"

He raised his eyebrows. "Does it look like we're driving into the ocean? Relax. We'll make it to Salem tomorrow."

"Salem? Really?" They had agreed to visit mainly small, less well-known places and avoid tourist hot spots. "Witch trials, old gallows…"

"I promised Nathaniel we'd send him a creepy postcard."

"That kid watches too many scary movies."

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

"Fine" she sighed. "Witches it is. But we're not staying in one of those themed bed and breakfast places." You had to draw the line somewhere.

He looked down at the map again, tracing the highway with his finger. "No way. But hey, it's too cold to just stare at beaches all the time, anyway."

Typical. She smirked. "You're such a romantic."

They had been driving up the coast for some time now, leaving their city behind for the New England winter. The road trip had been a somewhat spontaneous decision, born out of the situation of him being off duty and both their desperations to just get away for a while. The ground rules were clear: no work talk, no running off to work unless it was an emergency. Although she was still half convinced that the precinct might be falling apart in her absence, and kept checking her phone for new messages, she was also glad to be relieved of the responsibility for a few days. Right now, she could focus on driving and only driving, and she realized how unaccustomed she was to doing it outside the confines of city traffic. The road stretched out long and empty before them, winding around the gorgeous coast of Connecticut. There was something liberating about being in control of the car, away from people, about not being Sergeant Benson for a while. She tended to forget what it felt like to be outside that role when she wasn't on vacation. They were making space for other things, although she wasn't entirely sure what these other things would be.

She was torn out of these thoughts by Brian changing the radio station to his awful, misogynistic hip hop channel. "No." She changed it back.

"We've been listening to your music for hours now!"

"Yeah, well, the driver gets to choose."

"Okay, see the flaw in that logic, you _chose _to drive" he exclaimed, his palms turned upward.

"You chose to be in the passenger seat. All right, pick another station. Any station. Just not that one."

"As you wish." He pressed the button again, and they hit Christian rock. "Perfect!" He nodded his head along to the music and started to fold up the map wrongly.

"Sure" she agreed, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. He would change it again soon enough when he got sick of it. She hoped. "By the way, how's your stomach?" He had been in some pain on and off again since the day of the fight. The doctor had said it was only the external bruising, and Brian wasn't complaining a lot, but she could see it from the hesitation in his movements, especially when sitting down and getting up again.

"Okay right now. It's getting better." He touched the semi-healed wound above his eyebrow. "One more scar to add to the list."

"A scar can't hurt true beauty" she teased, throwing a brief glance at him.

"Guess that makes me safe."

A random memory popped into her head. "How does it go? 'A scar nobly got is a good livery of honour.' Or something like that."

"What?"

"Shakespeare. I think."

He smiled. "Okay, you get to be the pretty one and the smart one."

She shook her head. It had been way too long since they had done this. When she had actually looked at her timecard to put in for time off work, she had calculated that it had been something like 430 days since their last, their first trip together. The Bahamas seemed a lifetime away now, with everything that had happened over the past year. They had been a getaway to a hot, sunny place with an undefined friend/lover, and a fun getaway at that. This trip along their very own coast, off season and in this weather, was different, but so were they. She wasn't entirely sure what they were now, or where they were headed, but she didn't want to be thinking about that. With David, she had allowed herself to dream of a future. But life had a way of changing things on you, and somehow this casual, comfortable "this is fun right now" thing had turned into her longest relationship in years. They had both been looking for something, settling for the comfort of familiarity and easy flirtation perhaps, at a point in their lives which was beyond requiring something earth shattering and all-consuming.

"You know, the only time I've been to Salem was when my mother took me years- God, decades ago." She remembered everything about that trip with surprising clarity, the stuffy smell of the museum, her mother's embarrassing outburst about the historical inaccuracies in the displays, the red colour of her coat.

"Oh, I didn't know you'd been there before."

"She had a thing for Arthur Miller, my mother."

"That playwright?"

"Yeah." She took a look out Brian's window, where she could see the ocean now, as grey as the sky above. The clouds seemed to be hanging low over it, like heavy cotton, but it was supposed to turn sunny tomorrow. "It actually wasn't such a bad trip – one of the few trips we ever took. She liked her literature."

"Makes sense. She was an English professor, wasn't she?"

"You remember that?" She turned her head reflexively, nearly getting distracted from the road. They hadn't ever discussed her mother's occupation.

"You mentioned it years ago" he pointed out casually.

"In the last millennium…" She was stunned.

"Hey, I listen sometimes."

She focused on the road again, ignoring the burning sensation in her eyes. This was absolutely nothing to get sentimental about, she reprimanded herself. The moment passed.

Brian was leaning against the window with his elbow. "You know, when me and Jess were kids, our mom used to take us to the beach whenever she and Dad were fighting over his affairs, to get away. We didn't really go places other than that, so we were pretty excited about it despite everything."

Apparently, this sharing thing was now mutual. "That must have been hard. The fighting, I mean."

He shrugged. "No, they were good people, all things considered. And Jess taught me how to swim."

"That part sounds nice. I always wanted a sibling."

"I'm sorry" he replied, sounding unsure what to say.

"I mean there is Simon now, but…you know…" It was complicated. Him calling to ask for help, her trying to rescue him – although he had shown some concern after seeing her on the news.

"Took a long time to find him" he completed the thought.

"Yeah, well, still takes a long time." She turned down the volume of the radio absent-mindedly.

"Siblings are complicated."

"Did you keep in touch with Jessica all these years? I mean, when you were UC?"

"On and off. It wasn't easy. Saw her when Dad died two, three years ago and we started talking more after that."

"I'm sorry." She had known that his father had passed away, but she had been unaware that it had been in the last few years.

He shrugged, looking off into the distance. "We weren't that close. And Jess…I…her ex, John, is a pretty big asshole. But she was always protecting him, defending him." He shook his head. "She'd always ask me for help, and then she wouldn't let me help her."

"Maybe she wasn't ready."

"Yeah, either way, he's history now. She didn't even tell me until the other day; I would have checked in on them."

"You checked on them now." Most likely, Jessica hadn't been ready for an "I told you so" from her little brother, either, but she kept that thought to herself. He had a need to protect people from themselves, and this was enough family discussion for her taste.

They drove along in silence for a while, passing another beach surrounded by dunes sparsely covered in grass. It was frostbitten, hard and white around the edges, but there was no sign of snow. Eventually, Brian changed the radio station.


	12. Unwinding

He covered her hand with his, hiding her phone from view. "Stop it. They'll call if there's a problem. I'm sure everything's fine."His eyes were still fixed on the screen above their heads while he was talking to her.

"If I'd known we'd be doing this…" She slipped her phone back into her jeans pocket and leaned on the counter, supporting her head with one hand. "We could have gone to any bar and watched the game in New York."

"It's the NBA! Anyway, it's the last quarter. You like basketball."

"Normally." She didn't mind it, but she simply wasn't in the mood to stare at a TV all evening while on vacation.

"Come on, we took a walk, saw the town, we even went to that museum. This bar's nice." And he had been completely ignoring it from the start, barely taking notice of the people around them or the ancient look of the venue, the deep carve and scrawl marks in the wood or the open fireplace in the corner. It was actually a pretty nice place, in a plain, dark way. It had character.

She looked up at the TV, taking a swig of her beer. Good beer at least. Jerseys running back and forth, dribbling.

"Not going so well for them, is it?" a bearded man in his sixties sitting on the stool to her left commented.

She smiled politely, not really feeling up to small talk with strangers. "Doesn't look like it."

"Ah, it's all just show, anyway."

"Damn it!" Brian exclaimed on her other side. "That cut cost them. He should have guarded him."

She shrugged, semi-interested. "No chance of a win now."

"They should have made him play further forward" he grumbled.

"He still wouldn't have blocked that pass" her older neighbor butted in once more.

"But he wouldn't have been able to cut through in the first place."Brian set the beer bottle to his lips, so captivated by the game that he forgot to drink.

"That one two-pointer hardly made the game." In any case, this game seemed to be more about showing off flashy moves than actually winning, she thought.

"Whatever you say. I'm done." Their companion put some cash down on the bar, slipped off his stool and tipped his baseball cap in farewell.

"Smartass" Brian muttered under his breath.

She touched his arm. "Guess we're not making new friends tonight."

He finally shifted his attention to her, a small smile playing around his lips. "Is that what we had planned for this evening?"

"You had a date with a TV planned. Don't let me keep you."

"Hm, TV's looking less interesting by the minute." He took a look around, sizing up their location. "Hey, I like this place."

"You're only just realizing this now?"

"You know how my brain works."

"Slowly?"

"It takes time to process things- look at that!" He ran his hand over the wooden counter of the bar, which was covered in layer upon layer of scribbles, mostly one-liners by visitors and heart shapes with K + S and likewise in them, some political statements or cryptic poetry. "Let's add ours."

"I think cops damaging property kind of sets a bad example." Not that it was going to make much of a difference anymore.

He rolled his eyes at her and raised his hand to hail the barkeeper. "Hey, do you have a pen by any chance? It's cool if we write on here, right?"

The barkeeper gave them permission with a lazy wave of his hand and pulled a ballpoint pen from his pocket. Brian began to work on the wood with it, which wasn't easy, as it had clearly been treated and the ink didn't stick too well. Olivia watched him half write, half carve "Olivia & Brian, 2014" into the counter. He didn't go so far as to put a tacky heart around it, but he did use a fancy "and" symbol and took particular care with the O and the B. It was surprisingly sweet to see their names on this bar, there to stay – at least until they would be covered by the scribbles of others.

"There" he finished, running his hand over it once more, and leaned over to kiss her.

"Nice vandalism." She kissed him a second time and stayed close to his face, smiling at him. His eyes were sparkling. Basketball seemed to have an exhilarating effect.

"I didn't mind the museum" he stated out of the blue. "It had ships, after all."

"Big ships."

He took her hand into his. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. I feel very educated about marine warfare now."

"Good." He studied her face, clearly thinking about something.

"What?"

"Liv, how are you doing, really? Don't just say 'fine', I'm serious."

Yes, he was. But she didn't want to turn serious right now. There were still things she didn't like to share with him, things she wanted to keep separate. A shared load wasn't a halved load, it was double a load. Keeping the darkness out was important. "I'm good." She shrugged. "I mean, you know…things have been stressful. But I' m managing." She was managing, as Dr. Lindstrom liked to remind her.

"I'm glad" he said, satisfied with the answer.

The moment was interrupted by loud cheering from the other stools and they both jerked back, looking up at the screen.

"Four in a row?!" she exclaimed.

He shook his head. "How did we miss that?"


	13. Bonding

"Hey!"

She jumped at the enthusiastic greeting, looking up from her phone to find her little brother beaming down at her. "Simon!" They hugged without hesitation, as if it were something they frequently did. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you too, sis."

They sat down at the table, and she immediately sized up his appearance. He had gained some weight since she had last seen him, when she had picked him up after 60 days of custody and he had looked drawn. However, he had kept that "lost boy" facial expression, which made him appear younger than he actually was, and slightly unkempt hair. He seemed alert and in a good mood, and he had clearly made an effort to dress up in slacks and a crisp, ironed shirt. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I've been meaning to-"

"Please don't" she interrupted him. There was no point in him explaining their two-year gap yet again. He was the master of excuses.

"I was happy you called" he said earnestly. "Really. I was always waiting to call you with good news, when I had good news."

They had kept in touch by phone after his release from prison on and off again, but it had tapered off quickly. He had called her once, right after she had gone to stay at Brian's place. She hadn't been in a place where she had wanted to talk to him. After that, he had never called again. Not exactly brother of the year. And still, he was the brother she got, and after seeing Brian with his family at dinner, after talking about their siblings in the car, she had decided to take the initiative. He had sounded so happy to hear her voice.

"You look good" he complimented her. "I like the shorter hair."

"Thanks."The waitress brought them menus. "I hope Thai is okay? I wasn't sure what you like."

"Thai is perfect."

She had chosen the restaurant for its casual atmosphere and proximity to work. Brian had suggested she invite Simon over to the apartment, but when she had told him she wasn't ready for that, he had understood. After their previous meetings, which had always ended with her having to save him somehow, she wanted to reconnect on neutral grounds first.

"What exactly is guava juice?" he asked, trying to bridge the awkwardness between them.

"What it sounds like. Juice from a guava. It's very sweet." She began flipping through the menu, looking for something light to eat.

"I think I'll pass."

"Good idea. Anyway, how's my niece?" She couldn't hold back her curiosity any longer.

He smiled broadly. "Livvy's great. She got so big, every time I see her, she's grown. She runs, jumps, talks; she loves her toy car. I can barely keep up with her."

"Wow." It was hard to imagine that the baby she had only gotten to meet once was now a toddler, nearing the end of toddlerhood.

"You want to see a picture?"

"Of course!"

"I got them on my phone. I can email you some!"

"I'd love that."

He turned his phone around so she could see and zoomed in on a little girl in a bright orange snowsuit, sitting on a swing. She took the phone from him, staring down at the screen mesmerized. "Oh my God." The child had short, curly black hair and big dark eyes, and had obviously refused to smile for the camera, pouting. She had changed a lot, but it was definitely her niece, the girl who had inherited her name. She could feel a smile spreading from her lips to her eyes. "She's beautiful."

"Just swipe to the right, there's more pictures." Livvy and her mom. Livvy riding her toy car, laughing. Livvy hugging a snowman. Livvy and her dad, making snow angels. "This was right after the supervised visits were lifted. I'm so glad they did it early. That first day being outside with her again, without a social worker looking over your shoulder all the time…"

"Must have been a hard time."

"At least I didn't lose her. It was so close. Listen, I never thanked you properly for what you did for me-"

"You don't need to-"

"No, I want to!" he interjected emotionally. "Thank you. I can be her dad again now. Without you, that wouldn't have been possible. I got a second chance. I won't blow it. I promise, I'll never do anything to risk that again, ever." He looked so honest when he promised it, pleading with her to believe him.

And she did believe it, to an extent, or rather, believed that he meant what he said. But good intentions had never been his problem. She hoped he was right this time, that his impulsivity wouldn't get the better of him. She wanted to believe that he had changed. "I know you won't."

"I thought a lot about what you said. About growing up. I cleaned up my act as best as I could. I mean it's not easy with a record, but I'll take any job I can so I can send them money. I work. Nothing fishy, all legal, paying taxes and all. I found a steady place to live, a safe place in the city where I hope I can take the kids someday, somewhere they can inspect. I even put child safety features into all the power sockets, just in case - read a book about that, about how to make your place childproof. I keep nothing dangerous around the house. I don't even drink anymore."

"That's great, Simon, really." She wanted to be supportive and reassure him that she had faith in him. He was trying so hard to please her, she could tell. She hoped it wasn't only about that, about satisfying external requirements. But he seemed to get the idea.

"I want to be a real dad again." He started fumbling with his napkin nervously. "And I want you to get to know Livvy, too, I already talked to Tracy about it, she's fine with it. If you want to see her, that is."

"Of course I want to!" More badly than he could even imagine. If she had a child, she would never do anything to risk losing it. But it wasn't fair to think like that, she knew. Sometimes, things just happened. "How's Ty?"

His smile faded. "I had no right to see him, officially. And there's no way they'd let me adopt him now, even if Tracy agreed. I saw him sometimes, when she brought him along to the supervised visits, but…he doesn't know me so well anymore. Doesn't trust me."

"Can you blame him? He's a little kid, he was taken away from his home, then put back with his mom, he lost you all of a sudden, you only went to see his sister… Don't give up on him. Give it time."

"I'm not giving up" he replied quickly. "I'm working on it. But there's more court hearings to go, and…"

Ah. That's where this was going. "…and you were hoping I'd speak in your favour?"

"Only if you want. It's up to you." He said it with that puppy dog look on his face, playing on her emotions, whether it was on purpose or not.

"God, Simon…"She crossed her arms. "I swear…"

"It's okay. I get it. I didn't come here to ask you that. Honestly, I wouldn't have brought it up. I still want us to be closer, either way."

"Well, you're not making it easy."She remembered the Captain's words when she'd told him her brother was the only family she had – "and he knows it". Either way, there was only one answer she could give. "I'll do it. I'll give a statement in your favour."

"Really?" His face lit up. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, you have no idea what that means-"

"On the condition that I really need to know what I'm talking about. No nonsense. I can't lie to them, not when it's about your kid. You have to be straight with me. Any issues, literally anything they could find – tell me now, not when it's too late."

"Absolutely."

"Okay." She gave him a firm look, hoping that she had gotten through to him.

The waitress came by to take their orders, and they handed back the menus. She looked out the window, watching the busy street with people in business clothes passing by. It was a sunny day, with the light reflecting off the glasses on their table. "Where's Tracy on all this?" The last time they had talked on the phone, they had just begun meeting up outside the supervised visits again.

"We're talking. She wants me in the kids' lives, and she's willing to even give us a chance."

"Really?" She had not expected that.

"Yeah. It took a long time to get there, but I hope we can work things out. She's not sure. She doesn't want to move in together again, for now. But we're dating –if you can call it that- and, who knows."

"That sounds hopeful."

"There's a chance" he agreed. "Beyond that, I don't know. I want to be with her, I'd still marry her on the spot, but…love tends to get me into trouble."

"Yeah, I get that" she sighed. And still, he had such a potential to be a good guy, she was sure of it.

"Anyway, what's new with you?"

"Oh. Quite a bit, actually. I got a promotion" she told him with a tiny bit of pride. "I'm a Sergeant now."

"Sergeant? Wow! That's huge news! Why didn't you say right away? Congratulations! We need to drink to that!" He raised his glass of water to her. "You've earned it."

"Thanks. It means more supervisory responsibilities, especially now that our Captain retired. It's a change, and it's definitely taken some getting used to."

"You're good at managing people though. I can tell. You'll be great."

"We'll see. Not everyone's happy I'm suddenly their boss."

"I guess it's hard to be their boss and their friend at the same time." He sized up the situation with surprising accuracy. "But they'll get used to it."

"When did you become so optimistic?"

"Just takes practice." He shrugged, and again, he was very spot on. "Don't work too hard though."

"Easier said than done."

"Hm. Do you still live with…Brian?" It took him a second to recall the name, she noticed.

"Yeah."

"How are things with him?"

She took a large sip of her water, killing time to think about her answer. This was her estranged brother, and yet it felt so easy to talk to him. There was no pretence. "Up and down. Sometimes, we move forward, but then it's two steps forward and three steps back. We're both married to our jobs. I get lonely sometimes, but…it feels safe with him. He's patient. I like coming home when he's there. What more can you ask for?"

"But?" he asked, clearly not understanding her hesitation.

"But I don't know if it's enough."

"Enough how?"

"He doesn't want children." She hadn't wanted to bring it up, but there it was. "At least not right now, and let's face it, it's kind of late in our lives for that, anyway. And I don't even know how it would work, logistically, with our jobs. And I don't want to push him into anything he doesn't want. Anyway, it's not like you can just adopt a kid simply because you want one. But it's a stupid idea that keeps going round and round in my head."

"Children are a big deal" he replied sympathetically. "Not something to give up easily."

"Yeah, but I'm not even sure if that's what I want anymore. If I could do it right now. I don't want to do it on my own."

"You'd make a great mom."

"Don't say that." She was immediately reminded of her conversation with Elliot years ago.

"Why not?"

"Because it's what everyone says, but it doesn't change anything. I don't know if I've made the right choices."

"Have you talked to Brian about it?"

"Not really. I don't want to freak him out."

"I think you probably need to talk to him. How else are you going to figure out if you're on the same page?"

She knew he was right, but something kept holding her back. The timing never seemed right. "I know." She looked out the window again, watching a family push a buggy outside. "You know, we went on this road trip, just a few days, to get away. It was so perfect."

"Sounds nice." He folded his napkin again after unfolding it. It was hard for him to keep still. "I'm sorry about…about everything that happened. I know you've had a rough year."

She knew what he was alluding to, and she didn't want him to go there. It seemed too personal. "You had nothing to do with it."

"Yeah, but…I just didn't know what to say, how to help."

"So you said nothing." She understood completely; it was the reaction most people showed to extraordinary tragedy. However, understanding didn't make it any better.

"Yeah."

"Well, for future reference: I wasn't expecting you to be a hero. But anything's better than nothing."

He nodded, unable to look at her. "I'm sorry."


	14. Fear

She hung up her coat and walked into the main room, startled by the sound of his voice, which indicated that he had made it home before her. When he saw her, he jumped up from his chair, nearly dropping the phone in his hand. "Oh…she's here…yes, everything's fine…thanks…" He ended the conversation, threw the phone down on the table and rushed over to her, hugging her without another word.

"What- Brian!"

His breath came out in shaky gasps. He was holding her too tightly for her to be able to look at him, almost clinging to her. His dread instantly infected her.

"What's wrong? Bri? What happened?!"

"Thank g- you're all right" he finally managed. His voice sounded raspy in her hair.

"Yeah, of course, what-"

He abruptly loosened the embrace, looking down at her incredulously. "Where have you been?"

"What do you mean?" She resented the accusation in his tone. It had been a sufficiently exhausting day as it was, talking a young woman down from a window ledge. She was drained. "I was away on a case, working. What are you doing home?"

"Do you have any idea-" His arms were still wrapped around her. "Fuck, the wine, the food…"

She saw the open bottle on the table, a large red stain still next to it where she had spilled when her phone had rung, and remembered the dishes she had left all over the kitchen, the drained pasta she had been unable to eat, the halved onion out on the cutting board and the umbrella stand she had knocked over on her way out. She abruptly realized what the apartment must have looked like to him when he arrived. "I'm so sorry. I got called away on an emergency; it couldn't wait."

"You didn't leave a note; you always leave me a note!"

"I wasn't expecting you home this early." He had been forced to take a three day class out of town on professional ethics and boundaries. "Your seminar wasn't supposed to end until-"

"I called you several times!" The words seemed to spill out of him. "Your cell, your work line; I called Amaro, he said he hadn't seen you in two days, that you were supposed to go to New Jersey today to meet ADA Krisinsky there. I even called Krisinsky's office, but he said you never showed up. He was pissed about it, too."

She closed her eyes, running one hand through her hair. "His assistant must have forgotten to give him my message."

"I couldn't find you." The way he said it, the way he had talked to everyone in her life, gave her the creeps, but when she looked at his face, she didn't see possessiveness there, only blank fear. He looked like hell. This ran deeper than today.

"I'm sorry. I was supposed to go to New Jersey, but I got a call from a rape victim. I had to go see her. I couldn't answer my cell while talking to her."

He seemed unable to take in her explanation. "Nick said you went after a serial rapist, trying to connect the dots. He was worried, too."

Damn Nick. He shouldn't have told him anything. "I'm sorry I scared you." A blurry memory intruded, an image of him at the hospital, just standing there with his jaw clenched, looking at her. He hadn't lost it once in those early days and weeks, not until he'd been confronted with parts of what had happened. There hadn't been any room for him to do that. She had said some pretty horrible things to him back then, about her life being over, and he had just kept assuring her that it wasn't. She pushed the memory aside.

"You're all right?" he repeated, as if he couldn't quite believe it.

"Yes!" And she needed him to be, too. This worrying gave her a tight, entrapped sort of feeling. It hadn't been like this since the one time he had tried to talk her out of going back to work in sexual offences. "And, for what it's worth, I sent Fin and Amanda to go find that rapist. Never one person alone. Nick just didn't know – bad timing. I'll give him a call."

He let go of her at last, turning away and running one hand down his face.

"Hey" she grabbed his arm, stopping him from walking away, "it's all right. I get it. Won't happen again. You're here, I'm here, we're fine."

"I know. I just couldn't…not again…" He bit his lip. "If anything ever-"

"Nothing's going to happen." His fear scared her. She didn't know that nothing was going to happen, but she needed to believe it. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. You?" He seemed to have forgotten he had already asked her.

"Yeah. Just a long day." All she wanted was to plop down on the couch and forget about it.

He put his arm around her. "It's cold outside. You want to take a bath?"

"A bath?" This sudden burst of attentiveness was confusing. Brian wasn't the type to draw baths for people or light candles.

"Yeah. Just to relax a bit. I can clean up in the meantime."He hadn't touched anything yet.

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to."

"Well…that actually sounds tempting" she said, still baffled at the perfect offer.

"Good. I'll get that bath started."

"Not so fast. How was your seminar?"

"My seminar?" he asked absent-mindedly. "Oh. Yeah. You know. Boundaries – good. No boundaries – bad. Roleplay with a bunch of strangers – awkward."

She wrapped her arm behind his back and leaned against him slightly. "It'll make a good impression that you went."

He kissed her forehead, whispering "I'm sorry".

"About what?" When he didn't answer but just looked at her sadly, with that look of pity she hated getting from people, she knew that he didn't mean freaking out on her. "No."

"No?"

"You don't get to take that on yourself."

"If I'd come over that day like I said I would…" He stopped himself. They had never talked about this.

She broke away from him. "If you'd come over, what? You don't think I've gone over that scenario a million times in my head? If I'd pulled my gun, if I hadn't used that interrogation technique with him, if you'd come over - you know how I hoped that someone would come and save the day?" She was angry he had brought it up, angry that this was nagging at him, too. He didn't get to be the bad guy in this story. "Let me tell you what would have happened if you'd come over: He'd have shot you. Actually, he probably would have tortured you for a while to get to me, then shot you before moving on. It's not some big mystery; he told me so. And don't even think that you would have been faster, you wouldn't have been. That little moment of shock and surprise was all he needed. He'd have shot you, and then what? You'd be dead. How would that have helped?"

Brian swallowed and reached for her, but she pulled back. "Liv…"

"I'm so tired. Can we stop putting that on ourselves, please? We can't change it."

"Okay" he said helplessly. "I was just so worried today."

"I know." She thought of Claire, the rape victim who had so nearly jumped to her death today in her desperation.


	15. Long Nights

She was leaning against the kitchen counter in the semi-darkness, sipping her water. The house was completely silent, except for the occasional sound of a car going by outside, far, far below. She had opened the blinds partly to let the streetlights fall inside, avoiding complete darkness. The light formed a broad beam on the floor, splitting the room in half. It was too quiet. She longed for a shower, but she couldn't do that at this hour, not without waking up Brian as well as the neighbours. She felt sweaty after that indistinct dream of being trapped somewhere, in a dark, constricted place, somewhere … No. She made herself think about the upcoming day, all the things she needed to get done, the reports she had to check on her desk. If she finished early enough, she could hit the gym after work, provided she wasn't too tired from this weird schedule.

She heard him moving in the bedroom, sensed his approach even before his obligatory "hey" to let her know he was there. He came to stand beside her, leaning against the counter with his back and facing the opposite direction.

"Did I wake you up?"

"No." He glanced at the digital radio. "It's four o'clock in the morning."

"Yeah. You have a couple more hours. What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep anymore. You?"

"Same."

"Nightmares?" he guessed correctly.

"Yeah."

"You still get them a lot?"

Although she knew he hadn't meant it that way, the primary thing she heard in that question was the "still". "Still", implying that she shouldn't be having nightmares anymore, since a sufficient amount of time had passed. "Yeah. Less than before."

He took her hand without looking at her, intertwining their fingers. This was part of their normality, usually if she woke him up by accident.

"What about you?" she asked.

"What about me?"

"Why aren't you asleep?" She suddenly felt guilty about her earlier harshness, considering how shaken he had been. She didn't want to be so irritated with him all the time, yet somehow, it kept happening, and they kept having arguments that always ended with one of them withdrawing.

"Just thinking."

She squeezed his hand. "I didn't want you to think that it was your fault. Because it wasn't. Wasn't mine, either-"

"Of course not."

"Yeah, but it takes a long time to figure that out. And going over it, again and again, just-"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry I brought it up again. I didn't want to make you think about it."

"We both think about it, anyway" she said, trying to be as pragmatic as possible while still wishing they could be done with this to for good. "We can't let it become this…this dark thing that's always in the room while we pretend it's not there."

"I just don't know what to do. Or say."

"I don't know, either." There wasn't anything in particular to say or do that would wipe out the last few months. "I'm sorry I can't be more normal."

"No, that's not it. I just wish you'd tell me what was going on." Yes, he did. And at the same time, she could always see glimpses of his relief when she assured him everything was okay, his fear of her saying something he might not know how to deal with.

"I can't" she replied quietly, focusing on the fingerprints on their shiny new kitchen cupboards. "Not always. It's not that I don't trust you, but some things, you just got to figure out for yourself." _And I don't want to cause any more secondary trauma._

"Yeah." He was gazing at the gap in the blinds, preoccupied. The streetlamps cast a cold light into the room, leaving everything pale and dulled.

"But you-" she hesitated, unsure how to word it. "-you can talk to me, you know." He wasn't generally the "let's stare at the moon and talk about our feelings" type, and really, she was grateful for it. Still, she wondered where he went sometimes when his mind was clearly on something else. They stood in that foggy state between night and day, between asleep and awake for a few moments.

"When you were- when we were looking for you" he broke the silence, still not looking at her, "I made a deal. That if- when you got back, everything would be different. That as long as you…returned, I don't know, I'd be there no matter what."

She didn't know how to respond. It was weird and uncomfortable to think about it from the other side of things, as herself being absent. After all, he hadn't been the one all this had happened to. And yet, there was a deep sadness in all of it that she couldn't quite pinpoint, and a deep caring. So much regret.

"Guess it didn't work out that way."

"Some promises are impossible to keep. I told myself that if I got out of there alive, I'd change my entire life." She shook her head. "I told myself so many things…"

"You got out. That's what matters. You had to get _yourself_ out" he said bitterly.

"I did." And that part, that one fact, was the thing she kept reminding herself of, over and over again. _You got yourself out. Therefore, you are not weak._ _"_Look, I know I haven't really said this enough, but thank you. For, um, being there. Still."


	16. Colliding

"Can we _please _just drop this?" He began to walk a few steps ahead of her, up towards the bridge, but she caught up with him quickly, unwilling to let it go.

"No, we can't."

"We're out in public" he pointed out, trying to lower his voice. "I don't want to fight about a stupid comedian."

"Stupid comedian?!" She stopped in her tracks in the middle of the sidewalk. "Were we at the same show?"

Brian turned around. "He was obviously trying to piss you off. It worked, too."

"I can't believe you're defending him!"

"I'm not defending what he did! It's disgusting!"

"So it's okay to tell others to do it, just not to do it yourself?" He was unbelievable in his double standards, his way of dissociating between very connected events. His placating attitude, his lack of emotional commitment to this issue, enraged her.

"It's freedom of speech. They were adults! You don't go to a comedy show waiting to hear life instructions!"

"Just to hear so-called jokes that perpetuate restrictive stereotypes, victim blaming and diffusion of responsibility. 'She's a slut; it's her fault.' Do you think rape is funny?"

"Are you seriously asking me that question?"He suddenly switched from exasperated to equally furious.

"I don't know, what am I supposed to ask? You used to be an SVU detective, how can you not see the connection there?"

"How come you always need to have the moral high ground?"

"What?"

"When someone disagrees with you, it's always because they just don't care enough about justice, or because they don't see the truth-"

"That's really not fair" she answered coldly.

"Well, I didn't rape anyone, either, and it's not my fault the case didn't go well." He turned his palms upward, shaking his head. "I didn't laugh at his non-funny rape jokes. So, speaking of fair…"

"You told me to relax, like it's no big deal. But that's what people have been saying for decades every time a woman brings up this issue. 'Just relax', 'stop being so uptight about it'." She felt like she was talking to a wall. He couldn't possibly understand what it meant to her, that it was everything she had been working for. How depressing it was that after 15 years in this job, some things remained the same. She had simply assumed that they would have a connection on this issue, but they didn't. Their experiences, as a woman and as a man, were too different. Even Nick, who was more with her on this, had a different, paternalistic perspective.

"Jesus, Liv, I obviously didn't mean it like that. But you take it on board so much, everything that happens, everything someone says, and everything's so black and white with you."

"Rape is black and white! That's the point! Shades of grey is the classic rapist excuse!"

"I know that!" he shouted in frustration, loud enough for a passing woman to turn her head. "But because of that, we all have to hate the same songs, boycott the same entertainers-"

"If they make light of sexual violence, yeah!" Their conversation was turning in circles. "It's the only way to change things. It's an uphill fight."

"Do you have to fight all the fights?"

"I have to fight this one, because it's my job!"

"You put your job on the line for this!"

"It was the right thing to do" she insisted habitually. Why was that so hard to understand?

"Was it? Is that all it's about? Or were you trying to prove something?"

Yes, she had been trying to prove herself. She had been forced to admit it to herself, going over her argument with Barba in her head over and over again. She had screwed up on this case, not looked at the evidence clearly, not made the sensible decision. But hearing it from Brian was different; she wasn't ready for this accusation coming from him. "I made a judgement call. I can't change that now. I did what seemed right at the time. Maybe it was wrong, from a legal point of view. But that doesn't change it from a moral point of view."

"Maybe not. But you identify with the victims so much –you know you do, always have-" he stressed the last part, seeing her facial expression, "and this case, it took over everything."

"What are you saying?"

"That there's always more injustice to fight, no matter what you do. You'll never be finished. And life is tough enough as it is, do we really have to fight about this stuff as well?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because it matters!" She crossed her arms, trying to ignore the icy wind as best as possible. "Look, I think I need some time to myself. I'll walk home."

"Fine. Do what you gotta do."

"I'll see you later."

_Author's Note:__ This is something I didn't want to do as it breaks with the flow of the story, but I just needed to take this opportunity to thank you for all your generous and complimentary reviews. It's so great to hear that people are actually reading and enjoying this story, and it gives me the motivation to keep going with it. I particularly appreciate detailed feedback. If you have any critical comments or suggestions for improvement, feel free to hit me with them as well! In particular, I would like to thank you, Carla, because I so enjoy reading your reactions and thoughts on what is going on in the story, and it actually gives me ideas for further chapters. Thank you!_


	17. Terror

_Author's Note:__ This chapter may be upsetting/triggering for some people. Please take a moment to decide whether you really want to read it or not. _

_Terror_

It was her own scream that woke her up, sounding foreign and confusing in the darkness. Although she had no recollection of the reason for her scream, an immense dread filled every fibre of her being. Her heart was pounding in her ears, and she was drenched in sweat. For a moment, she had no idea what was going on; all she could feel was something on her, entrapping her, and she shoved it away, kicking – against sheets. Sheets?

Someone kept saying her name over and over, and as her eyes adjusted to the dim light that was created by the street in spite of the blinds, she sat up sharply and realized it was Brian.

"Liv, hey, Liv, it's okay, you're here at the apartment, it was just a dream. It's only me" he stated firmly with his hands up, keeping his distance from her. "You're awake now. Everything's okay, Liv. You're fine."

"S- sorry" she panted, finally understanding what had happened. "Sorry." She buried her face in her hands, wiping away the wetness on her face.

"It's okay, don't worry about it."

"Didn't mean to wake you" she mumbled. Her dread was slowly dissipating, being replaced by anger and disappointment in herself. She had been doing better lately with the nightmares, at least in terms of not waking him up. And now she was doing it again, at a time when they had barely spoken to each other since their last fall-out. Her nights hadn't been this bad in a while.

"It's all right, really." She could hear in his voice that it was clearly not all right, but still something that scared him very much aside from stealing his sleep. "Want me to turn on the light?"

"No." It would make it impossible for either one of them to go back to sleep. "Why won't they stop?" She was so tired, so, so tired of being terrified.

"Hey…" He scooted closer, reaching out his arm for her carefully, and she leaned back against him sideways, her head coming to rest on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry." Her mind was too clouded to really ponder what exactly she was sorry for, but she was so sick of all of it. Tears were still streaming down her face, she realized, and she couldn't stop them.

"Me too." He put his other arm around her, too, stroking her back. "That you're going through that. But remember what Lindstrom said? The nightmares could be, what did he call it, 'adaptation', your way of processing things."

"I should have gone for CBT, not this psychodynamic stuff." She had been working on rescripting nightmares in therapy, but it was all working too slowly for her, if at all.

"You're safe now" Brian repeated, and she could feel his cheek against the top of her head as he handed her a tissue.

"Thank you." She took a moment to try and calm herself down. Her breathing easily returned to normal, but it was the fear and disgust that she couldn't quite get rid of, that shaky exhaustion left in its wake. Once again, she was glad Brian was here, that she hadn't been alone but that she could feel his warmth against her body, and at the same time, she hated that he was here to see her like this. However, she was too exhausted to resist it.

"What was that dream about?"

"Honestly? I don't even remember. It was weird…vague…" She normally didn't like discussing it with him, but this had been so disturbing that part of her wanted to verbalise it to reduce the confusion. Sometimes, in more recent months, she had told him about her dreams, as long as they hadn't been too full of horrific imagery. He hadn't been freaked out by one of them yet.

"Was it a dream you've had before?"

"They're often similar, but…no…not that exact same dream." Intrusive images returned to her, images of fight or flight, of blood and distorted faces. They were too absurd to describe, too colourful to ignore, too frightening to organize. When it came to visual memories, she often became mute. "I couldn't move." It was the easiest part to put into words, so she decided to start there.

"Why not?" he asked, when she didn't offer any more information.

"I don't know. It was like I was paralysed or something. And…on the white tiles…there was blood and…I mean- I was on the tiles. And there was blood everywhere. The corridor was so long, it wouldn't end. And I just remember the big, white tiles, and all the blood splatter. Because it was me" she suddenly realized. "I hurt someone. But the corridor was endless, and I couldn't move. It was sticky. And the tiles, they were hot…they burned…" She swallowed, remembering how the dream had transformed, shifting shapes. "And…"

"And?"

"And…nothing, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put that on you." One of these days, it would be too much, too much darkness and hopelessness and too little improvement, and he would leave her. She dreaded that day.

"Liv. I can take it. I'm here for you."

She took a deep breath. "I killed him."

"Lewis?"

"Probably. I don't know. It wasn't that logical, kept switching back and forth. I could move, and then I couldn't. And the voice told me not to make a sound…something was going to happen, but I don't know what…" She shivered involuntarily.

"Sounds frightening" he commented, and she was grateful he was simply listening without interpreting anything into it.

"Yeah." She draped her arm across his body. "You know, sometimes, it's not the stuff I remember that's the worst. Sometimes, it's the things I don't remember, or half remember. I've pieced most of it together, but there are some facts I will just never know. Whole chunks of time. It's like I lost control of that time."

"You were injured, on drugs, dehydrated, sleep and food deprived and afraid for your life" he rationalized. "No wonder."

"I know" she said quietly. It was hard to keep talking. "But those gaps…I should be glad I don't remember. But there are glimpses of things and from the- the evidence on my body" she could feel him tense at the expression, "I know what happened and what didn't happen." Her own voice sounded foreign, low and detached to her as she recounted this. Brian seemed to be holding his breath. "And when it's there –the evidence- and you don't know how it got there, it's like you were just this lifeless prop that he could do anything with. He could use you; maybe it was an extra turn-on for him. Which, I guess, is much better than suffering through it, but…shit, I get why people say doing the rape kit is the second traumatic part." She recalled the cool air on her naked body, the combs, swabs and the fluorescent light showing body fluids at various places on her chest and stomach. She got lost in the memory for a moment, before returning to the present.

Brian seemed lost for words. There wasn't anything to be said.

"But he didn't rape me" she reiterated, although she knew he knew that. She had to keep reminding herself of this point, not because it eased the pain of all the other things Lewis had done to her, but because it was the one area where he had failed, the one thing that had remained intact. "Whatever else he did in that- that time…" She was at the end of her story.

"I'm so sorry" Brian whispered after a pause.

"I hate that he took that certainty." Of being in control. Of knowing what was real. "I wonder how different things would be if I'd just shot him."

"If you'd shot him, he could have taken everything. Your freedom, your badge-"

"But he'd be dead."


	18. Playgrounds

It was an unusually warm day for the season. They had been able to leave their thick winter coats at home for lighter layers and get some fresh air, which was why Simon had suggested they meet at Central Park, on open grounds. She had been surprised at the suggestion, more than surprised at his insistence she bring Brian along so he could meet him, and most surprised at Brian's willingness to go after he had expressed some skepticism about her brother's newfound involvement in her life the last time the topic had come up. She hadn't been sure how she felt about this big family meeting. Of course, she had been beyond excited to see her niece, but there was a lot of pressure on this situation, with her and Brian, Tracy and Simon, and two kids who were only just getting used to having Simon around again and had now been confronted with two more strangers.

But here they were beside a playground, with Tracy and Simon in particular too busy for any awkwardness to come up. For the past half hour, they had watched the children play on the slides, mediated a sibling argument over toy trucks, played chase, played unintentional chase when little Olivia had zoomed off on her tricycle, drawn on the tiles with chalk and regularly persuaded the kids to keep their scarf/gloves/hat on. She was surprised how natural it all felt, with everyone getting along so far. The two women had finally sat down on a bench to catch a break –looking after young children was more exhausting than Olivia had remembered- while the men had gone to take a look at Ty's secret fortress in the bushes by the playground. The little girl, Livvy, was crouched at their feet, moving the toy trucks around chalk drawn roads and an obstacle course they had created earlier, making car noises.

"They've grown so much" Olivia commented, watching her niece.

"Two years is long time in a child's life" Tracy replied, putting the pink straw bottle she had been holding back into her bag.

"Yeah. And a long time for supervised visits." She knew she had to tread carefully here, but if she was going to give a statement on this matter, she needed to know how things were going.

"Oh yes. I'm glad that's done."

"Must have been hard. Were you and the kids on your own?"

"No, my mom helped out a lot. Don't know how it would have worked otherwise. Still, Simon…"Tracy broke off.

"Simon?"

"I know he means well. And I think it will be easier, having him help out. But…it makes me nervous, too. I don't want things going wrong again."

"Yeah, that's understandable." Trust needed to be built over time. She glanced over towards the bushes. Her brother was helping Ty push a stick into the ground as a pole, while Brian tied some sort of piece of fabric around it. From what she could see, Simon was nothing but sweet and considerate with both children. "But if you can work together-"

"-that's what's best for the children? I hope so." The younger woman shrugged uncertainly. "Either way, we were such idiots. I'm not going to let that happen again."

"Vroom!" They were interrupted by Livvy running one of her trucks into Olivia's boot, and making a big explosion sound. She looked up at her aunt with large, dark eyes. "It crashed!"

"It crashed?" Olivia exclaimed. "Oh no! Is it burning?"

"Yeah! Lots and lots of big fire!" The little girl waved her arms wildly.

She gasped. "We need the firefighters to put it out! Where's their truck?"

Livvy ran to get it and sped over the tiles with it, zig-zagging around the obstacles while imitating a siren. "Go, water, go!" she shouted dramatically. "Shhhhh!"

"Is there enough water in the truck?"

"No! We- we need a helicopter!"

"Uh, okay…" There was no helicopter in sight. "Do you see one?"

"We left the helicopter at home, sweetie" Tracy interjected.

"Nooo! Fire!"

"What about a flying truck?" Olivia asked, feeling incredibly ridiculous. "The red one over there?"

"You do it!" her niece commanded.

She crouched down, grabbed the truck and moved it through the air. "Attention, attention, firefighters are flying in!"

Livvy giggled. "Trucks can't fly."

"This one can." She landed it next to her niece. "Shhhh!"

"Don't stop!"

"Shhh! Okay, the fire's out-"

"No!"

"No? Okay, what if your ladder goes up and you spray it from above?" The firetruck didn't have actual hoses, so the ladder was the only part that was movable. They kept going with their fire extinguishing efforts until the little girl was satisfied that the flames had, indeed, been put out. She promptly produced another "accident" to repeat the pretend play, gleefully enjoying the drama. They carried on like this until Livvy became restless, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, walking around and crouching again.

"Livvy, do you need to use the bathroom?" her mother asked clearly. The child ignored her, trying to smudge some of the chalk on the tiles with her glove. "Do you need to pee?"

"No" she said stubbornly.

Tracy sighed. "I think I better go find a bathroom before it's too late. Come on, sweetie, let's go-"

"Nooo" she whined, looking up at her aunt. "'lifia."

"I'll stay right here until you get back. I'll watch your trucks for you, okay?"

Her niece kept protesting even when Tracy scooped her up and walked away quickly, trying to find the public restrooms or, presumably, a quiet corner somewhere. Olivia glanced over towards the fort in the bushes, only to find that it had been abandoned in the meantime. Instead, she spotted Simon and Ty on the carousel, pulling at the wheel in the middle to make it spin wildly. Brian had been watching them, but was looking back in her direction and slowly walked over to her bench.

"Having fun?" she asked as he came to sit beside her.

"Yeah. Well, the carousel is a bit too much in my old age, but besides that…" He put his arm on the back of the bench. "Simon seems like a nice guy."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"I didn't know him before, only what you told me about him" he justified his earlier dislike.

"Hm, I don't think you were all wrong. He's not exactly been the most responsible or reliable person. But maybe he's changed."

"Maybe."

Her thoughts wandered from Simon to Brian, to the thing that had been somewhere at the back of her mind ever since that dinner at Jessica's house. "Bri?"

"Yeah?"

"How come you never had kids?"

He shifted at the question, adjusting his position. "Uh…wow. That's out of the blue."

"I've just been wondering, since the pregnancy test and when you said- I mean, you're obviously good with children." Watching him with the boys, who were both of the same age, she couldn't help imagining what he would have been like with their own child. Their own child that had existed only in her mind.

"I like children. I mean, I have nothing against children" he explained, visibly uncomfortable. "It was just never the right time. I used to think about it in my thirties, wanting a family, but it just didn't work out. I never really had a long-term relationship. Never with the right person. And with the undercover work, it wasn't exactly an option. I didn't want to be like one of those dads who…who isn't even there. I guess in the end, I chose the job."

"Makes sense."

"What about you?"

She looked at the bleak meadow in front of them, watching a dog scare a group of pigeons into flight. "I always wanted kids. I just didn't want to…mess them up, if that makes any sense."

"You wouldn't have messed them up."

"Maybe, maybe not. Either way, it didn't work out."

"How come?" he pressed the issue, having shared his own thoughts on the subject.

"Same as you. Relationships – not my strong suit." Their timing was so off. She couldn't help wondering what their life might have looked like if she had taken a leap and they had dated back in the day. What chances she had missed. But then again, they had been different people back then, she had felt differently, and they never would have become the people they were now. It was a pointless hypothetical scenario. "And there was always work. I liked my work." Work that wasn't just work but a commitment, with her and Elliot being stuck in this crazy world of their own so much she hadn't truly been open to other things. "There were no other people who could have helped out, either. But I always wanted kids."

He hesitated for a moment before asking: "Still?"

"Yes." She turned her head to look at him. "I know that maybe that ship has sailed but…yes."

His expression was unreadable as he met her gaze. "I didn't know that."

"I know."

"I sort of knew you were disappointed when the test was negative, but you said-"

"You were so relieved. And for the right reasons, I could see why." She wrapped her scarf around her neck once more. It was getting colder.

"It's just been such a rough year."

"Yeah."

"We found it hard to even make time for this."

"I know." It didn't change a thing. She didn't like being commanding officer more than she wanted to have a family. And that was probably the difference between them.

He shook his head, lost for words. "So what now?"

"I don't know." She didn't want to pressure him, but it was too late in her life not to have this conversation.

"It's not that I don't take this –us- seriously. You're my family" he stated simply. It was the sweetest thing she had ever heard him say, but it didn't diminish the disappointment that came with hearing what she had already expected. "But I don't think I'm cut out to be father. It's just not something I expected at this point and…there are so many things we are still figuring out, just with the two of us."

"Yeah…" The strength of their relationship was something she had been wondering about herself. This was not good timing, but there never seemed to be a good time for them. Was she truly ready to be a mother at all costs, come what may, even if she had to go it alone? How large a part of a meaningful life was it, for her? How large a part was Brian? They were questions she didn't want to ask herself, but that needed, ultimately, to be answered. Everything was complicated by the fact that there was simply no time to work through this, that every day seemed to count. Waiting in the hope that his mind would magically change didn't seem like an option. And adoption was a whole other issue, an issue that would require a greater commitment than "if it happens, it happens".

"I mean, how would it even work? Looking after a child takes over your life. It would mean giving up everything." He made it sound like a death sentence. Still, at least he was open to discussing it, after she had sprung the topic on him like that.

"Not everything. But yes, it would mean cutting back at work, it would mean stress, it would be physically and emotionally draining especially at this age-"

"You've really thought this through." He sounded slightly spooked. She could hear in his voice, see in his face and the nervousness in his body that he wasn't ready.

"Yes. Don't get me wrong, I have doubts, too. I wouldn't want to be like my mother, I wouldn't want to put my issues on a child's shoulders." She studied the chalk drawings they had made on the stone tiles earlier, the toy trucks cluttered around them. Further away, Simon and Ty were playing on the big pirate ship. "But with everything I've seen over the years, I don't think we'd be the worst parents in the world, either."

"That's not the point. I just didn't think this was even on the table for us."

"It wasn't, not until that pregnancy test."

"Right." He sighed. "So what does that mean?"

"I don't know. I have to think about it." She spotted Tracy coming back in the distance with Livvy on her arm. "I'm not trying to push you into something you don't want. I just wanted to bring it up, because it's something I've been thinking about."

And she would keep thinking about it without coming to a solution, as ever.


	19. Socialising

She was putting the finishing touches on her hair with a light, glossy spray, trying to fix the small curl she had managed to bring into the ends. Had she moved everything she would need tonight to her small clutch purse? Keys, wallet, cash, tissues, cell phone –which she still needed to switch to silent- pepper spray, the ticket, her lipstick. She was forgetting something.

"So who's this you're going out with again?" Brian called from the bedroom.

"I told you. Lisa from the gym." Lisa, who she'd had coffee with a few times after their work-out. Somehow, they had got to talking about the theatre, and it was Lisa who had asked her if she wanted to go with her.

"And she's not NYPD or from the DA's office."

"No, amazingly, there are other people out there besides us" she replied, knowing full well what he was getting at. She didn't have friends outside work, and she had never really had many female friends to begin with. But this was good, a nice change she was trying to introduce. She would have a night out without talking and, quite possibly, even thinking about work.

"That's cool."

She tugged at her black cocktail dress, trying to straighten it out. It was definitely the fanciest outfit she had worn in a while. It felt good to dress up like this for a change, to be feminine. "You know, you and I could go to the theatre sometime."

"To see something that's not a play? Sure!"

"Come on, I know you don't hate all art. Caught you reading a book the other day, remember?"

"Ha-ha, very funny. It's just plays I can't handle. People on a stage waiting for some guy who never shows up?"

She rolled her eyes. "It's not _Waiting for Godot_."

"Yeah, well, three people surrounded by bad props, wearing Mickey Mouse ears for no apparent reason, pretending they're on an ancient battlefield in France and talking fancy?" He did know more about theatre than he liked to let on.

"It's George Bernard Shaw."

She could hear him groan in the other room. "No, thank you. Have fun, though."

"Where does that loathing come from?"

"You really want to know? Ex-girlfriend."

"Ah."

"About ten years ago" he added unnecessarily.

"She broke up with you in a theatre?" She fastened the clasp of her gold necklace, sprayed herself with a hint of perfume and checked her reflection in the mirror. Not bad.

"No. Worse. She made me go to every single play that had someone remotely famous in it with her. It cost me a fortune. She especially loved musicals. Green witches, singing cats – you name it, I've seen it. I will never be able to get the Phantom of the Opera song out of my head."

She laughed at the desperation in his voice. "I'm expecting Broadway tickets for my birthday now." She was ready, leaving the bathroom to pick up her purse from the bed.

"Wow! You look hot" Brian exclaimed bluntly, looking her up and down. "I mean beautiful."

"Thank you. So what are you up to tonight?"

"Probably just some TV. Cleaning."

"Cleaning? I should go out more often." Although it was tidying that their apartment needed more than cleaning, with his belongings scattered everywhere.

"You should" he agreed, walking around the bed towards her. "Get out. Enjoy Shaw."

"Gladly." She really had to get going if she wanted to be on time.

"Wait, will it ruin your make-up if I kiss you?" He was standing in front of her, a boyish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Since when do you ask that question?"

"True." He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on her lips, lingering for a moment to enjoy the sensation.

"It's long-life lipstick."

"In that case-"

"No" she stopped him from kissing her again. "Sorry, gotta go."


	20. Physicality

The best since before? Definitely. She couldn't help going over last night again in her head, recalling images and sensations. _His kisses on her neck._ She was still wearing his blue, oversize T-shirt which came down to her mid-thigh. Her bare feet were starting to get cold on the kitchen tiles. She divided the eggs with her spatula, flipping the loose pieces.

"Good morning!"

She briefly turned her head to see Brian coming out of the bedroom, already dressed in slacks and a white shirt, smiling brightly at her. "Morning!"

He came up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and placing a soft kiss on the top of her head.

"You smell nice" she commented.

"Showering will do that to a man. This breakfast smells good, too. Wow, there are even tiny little cubes of vegetables in the eggs" he exclaimed in mock surprise. "How very domestic."

A fleeting smile crossed her face. "Don't get used to it."

"Any chance of coffee?"

"You're pushing your luck there. Go ahead and make some."

"Hey, I lit some candles yesterday." He reluctantly loosened his embrace, placing another kiss against her hair before opening the cupboard to grab filers.

"I noticed. And you got lucky." Brian had surprised her when she had come home late, putting on nice music and opening a bottle of wine. He could be smooth when it came to that sort of thing, when he wanted to be.

"Very lucky. Is it just me, or was last night-"

"-amazing?" she finished the sentence. "Yeah."

Something had been different about this night. It had been more like before, in the beginning of their relationship when everything had been fresh and exciting, every touch a reminder of years before yet different. Ever since Lewis, their sporadic sex life had consisted of short, gentle, almost cautious encounters. All the natural ease seemed to have gone out the window, with both her and especially Brian very hesitant to initiate anything. They had established clear rules when she had first signaled she was ready, a while after they had moved into the new apartment, when she had simply decided it was time despite feeling uncomfortable with it. She trusted him and knew that she could stop anything at any point –and she had stopped it at first, when they had tried- that wasn't the issue. But it always took focus to stay in the present and attentive for both of them, which was at odds with letting go. There was always this sense of relief for her when it was over. On the one hand, she had wanted to be with him and allow that intimacy into their relationship again; on the other hand, it had been like a task, just one more area where she had wanted to perform "normal" again and needed to push herself. Brian had assured her repeatedly that it was fine with him if they didn't have sex, that it wasn't that important. But it was important to her. She didn't want to associate sex with her boyfriend with an unrelated, physical assault. A physical assault had nothing to do with sex, she told herself. But she didn't like it when he saw the scars on her body. She didn't like the disgust that sometimes came up in spite of herself, even if she could hold the memories at bay. She didn't like how insecure it made Brian, and how they would then pretend everything was fine when they both knew it wasn't.

But this time, it had been something else, more spontaneous. She hadn't experienced this sensation that she was watching the situation from the outside while being in it. She had simply been there, connected with her body, and it hadn't been an intrusion. It had just been him and her, no third person in the room. Maybe it had been the alcohol or the residual physiological arousal from her exercise, but there hadn't been so much thinking involved for either of them. It felt like an enormous victory. She didn't know if it would last, if it could be like this again next time and the time after that, but for now, it was huge because she knew that it was possible. Progress didn't come in a linear way.

"Liv?"

She noticed her mind had been wandering, missing what he had been talking about. "Hm? Sorry."

"You said you bought more-"

"-filters, yeah! I put them up here so we'd use up the other ones." She reached over to the highest cupboard, wincing when she felt a blunt pain in her shoulder blade.

"You okay?" He reached for the box himself and put it out on the counter, took out a filter and began to fill it.

"Yeah, just sore from my karate class." It was a good kind of ache, the kind that reminded her that she had accomplished something, that her body would be just that little bit stronger. She gently rolled her shoulders.

"Must be some class." He grabbed some plates from the cupboard and began to set the table. They rarely had sit-down breakfasts together, but this was one of those occasions where they both didn't have to be at work for another couple of hours.

"It's pretty demanding. But good, very controlled and…"

"And?"

"It's just good to be that…you know, to go to that boundary. To feel your body." Was she even making any sense?

"Yeah."

She turned off the stove, fetched a coaster and carried the pan to the table. Brian had cut some of what he called her "weird, healthy bread". She was actually hungry, she noticed. They sat down to eat across from each other, and it was so pleasant just to sit and eat together without a hurry. "I wish we could stay home today."

"Me too" he agreed, "but hey, duty calls."

"True." She didn't want to spoil their morning by thinking about the wide range of problems she might be faced with the second she walked into the precinct. She just wanted to sit here, enjoying how the morning sun lit up their apartment after the long night. _Home. _

"Hey, your eggs will get cold." He reached across the table and touched her hand, pulling her attention back. "You're somewhere else today."

"Actually, I'm not. This is nice" she said, and the words were wholly inadequate to express what she was actually trying to communicate to him.

"I know." He smiled again, and she knew he understood. "Um, by the way, there's something I totally forgot to mention last night."

"Uh-oh."

"No uh-oh needed. Reah called me yesterday."

"Really?" This was a surprise. Although he had been speaking to his sister more regularly since their visit, his conversations with his niece when she answered the phone tended to be rather monosyllabic.

"Yeah. Jess mentioned they've not been getting along so great, but apparently, they had another major fight."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. It's just that age, I guess."

"And she called you?" Somehow, that sounded like trouble.

"Yeah. She wanted to ask if maybe she could come stay with us for a weekend sometime?"

"What?" She had been about to take a bite of her bread, but put it down again.

"I think she just wants to get away for a while."

"That's…out of the blue. She's never even been here." And, however close Brian might once have been to his sister and the kids, he hadn't exactly seen much of them over the past couple of years.

"Yeah, it's a bit random. But I don't know, she sounded really disappointed when I didn't say yes right away, and it would only be for a couple of days, just like a visitor."

She didn't know what to say. "No" seemed a bit harsh, but something about this sounded strange to her, and the thought of being responsible for a teenage girl she barely knew with how unsettled their life had been lately wasn't all that appealing.

"Amaro stayed here for a while."

"Amaro's not 14 years old." And he was using two completely different situations to remind her that he hadn't opposed to her guest.

"It would be the weekend, I'd keep an eye on her. It's not likely I'll get called into a desk duty emergency, unless no one can read Lamar's handwriting again." He was so bored with desk duty. Having something else to do might be good for him. "You don't have to do anything."

Not likely. She was fairly certain she would be the one to make up a bed, to think about things to do with a teenage girl on the weekend and so forth. "That's not the problem. It's just that this is a bit surprising."

"She's my niece, Liv" he implored, and he had her at that, appealing to that sense of family responsibility. Just when she thought she had him figured out…

"Okay. If she wants to stay here, that's fine by me, I just really think you should find out what's going on with them first. Run it by Jessica, see what she thinks."

"Of course. If Jess says no, it's off the table. But Reah came to me, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it, I really do."


	21. Googling

"You got anything else with you?" she asked the girl, taking a glance at the small bag she was carrying over her shoulder.

"No, that's all." Reah smiled, clutching it a little more tightly.

"A light packer. Good."

Brian had picked up his niece from the train station after work. She followed him into the apartment slowly, looking around before stopping abruptly and taking off her shoes.

"Oh, you don't need to do that" Olivia said, noticing that Reah had been barefoot in her ballerinas and was wearing nothing but leggings, a sweater and a light fake leather jacket, all of which was completely inappropriate for the season. "Do you want some socks?"

"No, thank you." The teenager turned on the spot and looked up at the high ceiling, visibly impressed.

"Pretty cool, eh?" Brian asked.

"Way better than your last place. It's big. Did you get rich?" Clearly, she wasn't shy. There was some sass there.

He grinned. "Ha! Adorable. Go ahead and work in public service for twenty years, that'll answer that question for you." They actually weren't too badly off, with both of them working for many years without interruption and no one to lend financial support to. They could afford to be spending their money on themselves, although Brian was sometimes a little touchy about the fact that she earned more than he did, no matter how many times she told him it didn't matter.

"Cool view" Reah commented, running her hand over the back of the sofa as she approached the large window front to look down.

"Yeah. We'll make up the sofa for you later, just haven't gotten around to it yet" Olivia explained. "It's actually pretty comfy."

"Thanks." She was still gazing down at the street mesmerized.

Brian and Olivia exchanged a glance. What was the protocol on what to do next? She had actually found herself googling "things to do with teenagers in NYC" a couple of nights ago. The problem being, of course, that most sites that had come up had suggested the usual tourist activities, not regular "what do you do with a teenager you don't really know too well" kind of activities. Brian had suddenly seemed to believe that museums were a good idea after all. She had talked him out of it, unless it was something his niece actually wanted to do. "

We were going to cook tonight, but it's getting kind of late" he said. Once again, they had both of them gotten out of work far later than expected. "So, anyone up for ordering in some pizza? You like pizza, right?"

"Love pizza. Mom hates it." Great. It was the first time a member of his family came to visit, and they were going to order pizza of all things. They had really been trying to cut down on their take-out consumption and prepare healthy meals. Well, actually, she had been working on that for years.

"Oh yeah, she always did." Brian sat down on the sofa, leaning back and yawning.

Olivia went to grab the take-out menus from the kitchen drawer. "So, Reah, any thoughts on what you'd like to go and do tomorrow? We're supposed to get icy rain, so outdoor things could be tricky, but besides that…"

The girl turned around, leaning against the windowsill. "I don't know. What do you guys normally do on weekends?"

Good question. What did they normally do, besides their recent road trip? Work, in her case, at least in the past few weeks. Other than that? Housework, exercising, opening letters and paying bills, sitting around on the sofa exhausted, Central Park, maybe going out for dinner every once in a while although they hadn't really been doing much of that. She suddenly felt like they should really get a common hobby, something they both enjoyed doing as a couple. "Uh, not much. We could just go out and explore the city a little. Look at stores, see some sights…is there no place you really want to visit?"

"Well…" Reah hesitated. "I kind of like going to M&M's World. Can we stop by there?"

"Candy?" Brian laughed. "Really? That's your number one thing to do in the city?"

"It's cute!" she exclaimed defensively. "But we don't have to go there-"

"Sure, we can swing by" Olivia agreed, relieved that entertaining this girl seemed to be as simple as this. So much for museums. This was easier than expected.


	22. Saturday

"Do you think I should have bought the red shirt, Olivia?" It was the first time Reah had asked her opinion on something, even if it was with a four hour delay. They had spent a wonderful day shopping and walking around to look at some of the filming locations for their favourite TV shows. It had been enough to make her regret the fact that she had to go into work tomorrow as they were trying to wrap up a case.

"It's too late now" Olivia shrugged, continuing to chop her carrots.

"But did it look good?"

"It looked fine on you. Not sure if it was worth spending your money on though."

"Do you think it clashed with my hair? I can never tell." The girl put down her knife, clearly preoccupied with the question.

Brian chuckled. "How can a shirt clash with your hair?"

"You wouldn't understand" Reah replied dramatically.

"True. By the way, some of yours do." She threw her boyfriend a mischievous smile.

"What? That's crazy. Guess I'll have to go out and buy more."

"Oh no, you don't!" He was one of the few men she knew who did not have an issue with shopping for hours. She was glad they had been able to leave him behind at the Apple store when Reah had insisted on a lengthy trip to H&M. "Here, make yourself useful." She handed him the ladle.

He reluctantly approached the big pot and stirred. "I've told you, you don't actually need to add the broth spoon by spoon; risotto works fine if you chuck it in all at once."

She shook her head. "It doesn't reach the same texture."

"Isn't risotto just fancy rice?" Reah asked, having resumed her half-hearted slicing of the spring onions.

"Thank you." Her uncle gave her a thumbs up, adding another ladle full of broth to the pot.

"It's creamier if you prepare it right. Can we just do it by the book, please? I've wanted to try this recipe for a while."

"Fine."

"Nat is useless at cooking" the teenager commented.

"He's only seven" Brian replied. "Plenty of time to grow into a chef."

"So? It's annoying."

"Do you cook for you guys a lot?" Olivia asked.

"Just when Mom works late. I'm supposed to watch him after school, but he can be such a little brat, especially if I have friends over."

"Does she have to work late a lot of days?"

"Not all the time. Just if her boss decides to be an ass."

Olivia looked at Brian, noticing the concern in his frown. This sounded like a substantial amount of responsibility for the 14-year-old, and she could certainly understand the frustration that came with it. The last thing you wanted to do after school was to look after an annoying little brother. On the other hand, as a single mom Jessica probably didn't have an alternative, and she was clearly trying so hard to look after her kids and provide for them.

"I thought you had basketball practice after school?" Brian asked.

"Not anymore."

"The season's finished already?"

"Nope. Got kicked out." Suddenly, her spring onions seemed to be very interesting. Behind the tough façade, there was a sadness in the way she squeezed her lips together.

"How come?"

"Skipped school."

"Why?"

"It was boring."

"Did something happen there?"

"No. I just don't care."

"Reah…"He sighed, leaning against the counter beside her. "Is that why you've been fighting with your mom? Look, I get that school sucks sometimes. But you just have to put up with that for a few more years. There's no way out of it. Then, when you graduate, you can do whatever you want."

"What I want is to not go to school."

"But, you know, the only one who gets hurt that way is you" Olivia explained. "Not your mom, not your teachers, not Nathaniel. If you finish school, you can move out and get a job. You can do your own thing." She hoped she was hitting the mark here. Whatever short-sighted decisions this girl was making now would affect her entire future. "Without a high school certificate, that's pretty damn hard."

Reah rolled her eyes. "You guys sound like Mom."

"Hey, you have to take this stuff seriously" Brian repeated. "What did you skip school for, anyway?"

"Nothing! Can we please stop talking about it?"

"Fine" he gave in, unable to resist her pleading. "Anyway, have you done your homework yet?"

"Argh" she groaned, crossing her arms. "On the train last night. Wanna check my notebook, too?"

"Maybe I should."

They were interrupted by some Rihanna song blasting out of the girl's bag. She rushed to answer the phone, but by the time she managed to dig it out from under what looked like a million unnecessary things to be carrying in a purse, the ringtone had stopped. "Sorry, gotta make a call."

"Who was it?"

"None of your business." She went into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Brian looked at her incredulously. "What the hell just happened?"

"I think that's what we call an argument" she stated the obvious, taking over the stirring of the risotto. "Let her cool off for a moment." It wouldn't be good to end a pleasant day on a bad note, and either way, dinner would be finished soon, probably drawing her back.

"She used to be such a sweet kid."

"She's growing up, honey."


	23. Lost

"I don't want Rollins going out on this alone, is that clear?" she stated in her best command mode. She needed to get through to Nick on this and put an end to this argument.

"Liv, come on, it's a regular subway flasher, I think she can handle it. Just send an officer."

"It's not about that." She had been keeping an eye on Amanda and her alternations between showing up late for work in various states of fatigue and caffeine highs and clocking countless hours of overtime. She had tried talking to her about it more than once, but with little effect. Something wasn't right; there had been friction between her and the others, but of course, no one would tell her a thing about what was going on. It was the same blue line crap she and Elliot had pulled a million times in the old days, but she certainly didn't like being on the other side of it, not when she was trying to help.

"All right, I'll go with her."

"No" she told him firmly. "I already sent Fin."

"Fin?! He's supposed to be finishing up witness interviews for the Rickons case."

"Well, he's on this case now." She didn't like jerking them around like that, but Nick and Amanda teaming up just didn't seem like a good idea right now. Fin was calmer, more experienced and better at keeping her in check. And, once again, she realised she was short-staffed. There had been too much fluctuation this year, and being called into work on a Sunday wasn't boosting morale. "I'll take some of the witness interviews while you finish up your paperwork. I need that file."

"Got my orders, Sergeant" he confirmed in a passive-aggressive way, walking out of her office. Sometimes, she wasn't sure who was harder to handle, him or Amanda. The fact that he had been her partner for well over two years somehow made it difficult for her to be firm with him.

She sat down at her desk, opening the file to look at the witness list. She had barely begun screening the names and relationships to the victim when her phone rang. She glanced down at the display, seeing Brian's face appear. Bad timing, as usual when he called her at work. "Hey, what's up?" She did her best to sound friendly.

"Reah's gone" he stated bluntly.

"Gone? What do you mean, gone?"

"I can't find her. I got called into work earlier, and when I got back, she wasn't there anymore."

"You left her alone?" Typical, of course they both had to be called into work on the same day.

"It was only going to be a couple of hours; I didn't think she needed a babysitter" he snapped defensively.

"You've called her?"

"She's not answering her phone. I left her a message. She didn't leave a hint on where she was going. Called Jessica, too, she hasn't heard from her. Shit! I shouldn't have left her. She wanted to come with me and see where I work, but I didn't think it was a good idea."

She needed to calm him down and get him to focus. "Brian, does she have any friends who live in the city?"

"I don't know…" He sounded panicked and she could hear from the background noise that he was rummaging through something, looking for something.

"Call Jessica and find out."

"Yeah. I have to go out and find her."

"With no idea where to start?" The least useful thing to do would be to run around the city aimlessly; he had to realise that. Reah, too, knew that she had to get on the train home by this evening. "Can you think of any places she mentioned?" She was racking her own brain, trying to remember their casual conversations from the day before, any hint the teenager might have dropped.

"The H&M store?"

"Possible" she agreed, although she somehow didn't think it very likely.

"I'll go and look."

"I think it's better if someone stays home in case she shows up" she suggested, weighing her options. Chances were that Reah had simply gotten bored sitting at home alone and gone out to try and have some fun, that she was perfectly fine and would return in time. So she should be staying here and carry on with her witness interviews. On the other hand, she had no idea what kind of "fun" Reah might have got into, and there was no way she could take chances with the girl's safety, especially with Brian and the girl's mother worrying.

"I can't just stay home and do nothing! She could be in trouble!"

"Or she could have just gone out to visit a friend or explore a bit" she tried to de-catastrophise.

"She gets into trouble! Jess told me, okay, this isn't the first time she's done this. Damn her, why does she only mention this now-"

"Talk to her again, find out anything you can about who her friends are, what she likes to do, you know the deal. I'm on my way." She grabbed her coat and left the office, mouthing "family emergency" at Nick in passing and giving him an apologetic look.


	24. Found

"You can never, ever do something like this again, do you understand me?" he insisted with unusual firmness. Olivia had rarely seen him this angry before, and he was instrumentalising it to make his niece listen to him.

"Yes" she answered meekly, looking down at her cup of tea. "I'm sorry."

They had sat down at the table to talk things over with Reah, after she had called them back at last and told them where she was. They had spent the past hour trying to find her and speaking to her best friend on the phone, who had finally, after some persuasion, told them that Reah had a boyfriend who occasionally spent the weekend in the city with his dad. They had picked her up near Lincoln Center, incredibly relieved to see that she was just fine. By now, relief had made way for irritation over the nerve wrecking search.

"We were really worried about you" Olivia stressed. "We had no way of knowing where you'd gone, if something had happened, when you'd be back. Your mom was worried, too." They had called her instantly when they knew her daughter was all right, and she had insisted on speaking to her as soon as she was back, telling them to send her straight home to her. "You can't just take off without telling anyone."

"You called Mom?" She grimaced.

"We had to. We were trying to find you. Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"I wasn't paying attention. I just didn't think- I thought you were at work, and I would have come back in time. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal with disappearing to wander around the city? Are you serious?" Brian asked. "I don't know what kind of stunts you usually pull, kid, but you can't just take off without notice when you're visiting someone. Messed up things happen all the time."

"You only think that because you're a cop."

"That's exactly the reason I know what can happen." Were they reacting in a hypersensitive way because of the nature of their work? Probably. Did terrible things happen to young girls who were only going out to look for a good time? All the time.

"It's not like I crashed a party or got drunk!"

"Well, if you put it like that, I guess that makes it okay!"

"So this Manuel you were meeting, he's your boyfriend?" Olivia asked, trying to move away from the "you did" – "I didn't" confrontation.

"Yeah. I can't believe Megan told you about that."

"She was right to do it" she replied quickly, putting her hand on Brian's arm as she could sense a sharp retort coming. "Also, we kind of made her tell."

Reah ran her hand through her hair, de-tangling it absent-mindedly. She obviously did not want to have this conversation.

"How long have you two been going out?"

"Sixteen-and-a-half weeks" she told them in the precise manner that indicated that nearly four months was still a lifetime for her in the dating world.

"That's a while. Is he from your high school?"

"No. He's not one of those losers."

"Different school?"

"He's not in school anymore."

Uh-oh. "Reah, how old is Manuel?"

"Nineteen."

"Nineteen?" A "wow" slipped out of her at the same time as Brian exclaimed "He's five years older than you?"

"Why is everyone so bothered by that? Dad was, like, eight years older than Mom."

"It's different when you're older" Olivia remarked. "Five years at your age is a lot."

"I'm not some little kid, okay? Manu has a job and everything."

"So his responsibilities, his life is very different from yours."

"You don't even know him!" Reah crossed her arms in front of her, leaning back in her chair. "No one wants to get to know him, either. You guys are hypocrites, you and Mom, you just don't like him because he's not some college prep, except you can't say that because it would make you racist, so you say he's too old."

"C'mon, you know that's bullshit" Brian answered. "I don't care if he's in the Ivy League, he's nineteen. He's an adult." Well, more or less, one would hope.

"And I'm not a child, but I guess that doesn't matter to you." She got up from the table and stormed out of the room yet again, retreating to the only place she could, the bathroom.

"Reah!" He got up, but it was too late, she had locked the door. "Damn it."

"Give her a minute."

"So that's what Jessica was worried about. I need to talk to her- we have to do something."

"Do what?"A stormy overreaction was hardly the most useful measure right now.

"She's fourteen!" He rubbed his eyes.

"Yes, and she seems pretty serious about him."

"So? Liv, that's second degree statutory rape!"

As if she didn't know. "We don't know that they are having sex."

"We have to do something!"

"I'm not sure what we can do that would really help her" she responded, pondering their options. "The more you tell her she can't go out with him, the more she'll want him. Romeo and Juliet effect."

"Yeah, well, that didn't end too well for Romeo and Juliet. She'll get over it."

"She's in a volatile place right now. He might not be the cause of the problems, he could be a stabilizing factor. When I was that age, I would have done anything for my boyfriend."

"Even more of a reason to keep them apart." A naïve suggestion, as he had to know very well.

"Let me talk to Reah alone so she doesn't feel like we're ganging up on her. If we do something rash now, she'll only take off again."

"Okay. I think you're better with this girl stuff anyway" he said grimly, pulling out his phone and looking something up. "I need to grab something from the store quickly and call Jess. I'll be back in a bit."

She took her time watching him leave and finishing her tea before gently knocking on the bathroom door. "Reah?" No answer. "May I come in? I'd like to talk to you."She waited a moment, giving the girl time to consider without exerting more pressure. Girls could be so touchy about these things and quick to take an antagonistic stance. Eventually, she could hear the door unlocking. "Thank you." She slowly opened it, only to find Reah sitting on the bathroom floor with her knees drawn up to her chest, leaning against the bathtub. Her eyes were red, but she wasn't crying anymore. "Would you like to come out? Brian's out at the moment." The teenager shook her head. "All right. Mind if I sit down?"As her answer to this was an indifferent shrug, Olivia lowered herself on the floor next to her, facing the open door. She had never seen their apartment from this angle before. Good thing they had just cleaned the floor.

She considered her words carefully, selecting how much information she wanted to share. "You know, I had an older boyfriend when I was in high school. He was in college. He meant a lot to me."

"You did?"

"Yeah."

"What was his name?"

"Daniel. Dan." She hadn't thought about Dan in a long time. Dan, her perfect grown-up escape plan from taking care of her mother. It would be nice to know what became of him.

"Why did you break up?" Reah was watching her intently now, and she knew that her interest had been piqued.

"It just didn't work out. He graduated and left, and I…stayed." She could remember that day clearly, the day he had given up on their plan to hitchhike across the country to take a job in Boston, asking her to come with him. She had said no despite their engagement. It wouldn't have worked out.

"Why didn't you go with him?"

"I was scared. But, looking back on it, I'm glad I didn't, because I got to finish high school, and go to college, and find a job I love. All that wouldn't have happened with him. I got to be my own person first, before being so serious with someone." She didn't know if that last part would make sense to Reah, but it might one day.

The girl thought about this for a moment. "Manu doesn't want me to give up school or anything like that."

"That's good. You care about him a lot, don't you?"

"I love him" she confessed in complete seriousness. "He's sweet, and super nice, and he's not a jerk like most of the guys at school. He listens and he thinks I'm smart…"

Olivia could certainly understand the appeal there. Who wouldn't want to be cared for, taken seriously and made to feel special by an older boy? "Sounds serious."

"He is. We are. Why is that so bad?"

"It's not bad that you feel that way about him, it's just that since he's older, he's likely to want a lot from this relationship."

"But I want a lot."

"I get that, honey" she acknowledged, looking at Reah with a smile. "But you also need some time-"

"Time for what?"

"Being with an older boy can sometimes make you want to do things for him that you're not feeling ready for."

Reah shifted awkwardly at that. "You mean sex."

"Yes."

"He doesn't want to do it. He's scared of getting in trouble."

"Well, he's right about that. He could go to prison." It wasn't likely with the five-year age gap even if her mother complained while she was still fourteen, but it could happen. "But it's not just a legal issue. If you have sex when you're not ready…it can hurt, and it can really make you feel vulnerable and used, and afraid of being with that person or another person." She pushed aside the memory of her own, awkward, hurried first time in the back of a car. "Someone who really loves you will respect that boundary, and won't pressure you or leave you if you don't want to do it."

"He doesn't." Reah was looking down at her nails, picking at the blue nailpolish. "Like I said, _he_ doesn't want to. It's just Mom who's freaking out over it."

Somehow, Olivia doubted that Reah actually knew what she wanted at the moment, and she was relieved to hear that this Manuel at least had the sense to look out for his own safety. "She's worried about you. Can you blame her for that?"

"Yeah, well, she's really one to talk." Anger flashed up in her face again. "Not the best person to be giving dating advice."

She once again noticed the derision whenever the girl spoke of her mother, the parent who had stuck around. "Because of your dad?"

"Because she's weak. She let Dad treat her like shit for years, and even now, she sticks up for him in front of Nat."

"Maybe she wants to protect him."

"She's not protecting anyone. Nat is not an idiot." Her voice was hard as stone. "You know, he just used to run to his room and cry like a baby all the time. He never stuck up for her, and she protects him?"

"Unlike you?"

"I can take care of myself. But I was the only one who ever stood between her and Dad, the only one who told Dad straight up if he was being an asshole. And then, suddenly, it would be them teaming up against me, and she'd say I was provoking him. Because I guess it was okay for him to call her a stupid bitch and a whore, but it's not okay for me to call him out on being the asshole he is." Tears came to her eyes, and she brushed them away angrily. "And she'd cry and cry and cry over it, like 'oh no, what am I gonna do, what did I do wrong', and he'd do it again, find something no matter what she did, and it never ended, him yelling at her and her crying. And then she lets _him_ leave _her_? I would have kicked him out; I would have burned his stuff if she'd let me!"

Olivia put a hand on Reah's upper back, carefully watching for non-verbal cues of discomfort with it. But the girl was in her own world, going over the emotional abuse in her memory again.

"I hate him so much." She clenched her fists, taking shallow breaths to fight for control. "I'll never be like that. Never."

"I'm sorry, Reah. That must have been so hard for you." She recognized that need to be the strong one, the parent, to make yourself invulnerable.

"No!" Reah replied furiously. "I'm just glad it's over, is all. I don't care."

"None of that was your fault. I think you've been really strong, honestly, but you couldn't have done anything to stop it."

"I k- know." She wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face in them, and eventually, her body was starting to shake with half-suppressed sobs.

Olivia put her arm around Reah's shoulders, allowing her the time to cry.


	25. Postponing

She was half sitting, half lying on the sofa with her knees drawn up, the case file open on her legs. Reading through the witness interviews, it became clear that a piece of the puzzle was missing. There was something they were overlooking, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. There were some questions Nick hadn't asked the victim's brother, and others that he had worded differently than she would have done. _Not necessarily with a better result_, she reminded herself. It was always easier to think of a different approach after the fact.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by footsteps approaching. "Hey, babe."

She didn't look up, still trying to concentrate on the sheets in front of her. "Hm-mh."

"It's almost midnight." She knew he wasn't simply trying to state the time, but that it was a prompt.

"Uh-huh." Was it? In that case, he had left her alone for the past couple of hours ever since she had come home and told him she still had some more work to catch up on.

"That file's still going to be here tomorrow. Maybe you want to catch some sleep?"

"In a little while. Go ahead, I'll try not to wake you up."

"Okay." He wasn't leaving. Instead, he came around and sat down on the opposite end of the couch. Great. There went her focus. "But it could be easier to see new information after a good night's rest."

He did have a point there. Sometimes, as much as she hated doing it while she was immersed in the moment, she needed him to coax her into putting down her work and ignoring her to-do list of 101 things. But this wasn't one of those nights. She looked up from her file. "Brian, we're close to a breakthrough in this case. There's just some detail we're missing, something I have to find."

"I get it. It's just…you haven't been sleeping a lot. And with everything that happened today, maybe a break would be good. I'm worried."

"I'm fine" she said, making herself smile at him. "I just took a break yesterday, remember?"

"There are other people working on this case" he stated, ignoring her counter-argument. "Why does it always have to be you taking paperwork home on a Sunday to go over everything again? It's like there's not enough hours in the day."

There weren't enough hours in the day for her job, that was the problem. "Because I'm in charge." They had been over this before. Their relationship, her entire fragile work-life balance, had changed once she had been promoted. Brian had accepted that, especially as he had hardly ever been home himself to notice. Now, being on desk duty, he noticed.

"I know. But doesn't that come with delegating? I mean, you're not just assigning or checking their work, it's like you're re-doing it as well."

She didn't like it when he tried to tell her how to do her job, even if it was out of concern. "It comes with managing so you get the best possible outcome. Sometimes, I'm busy with admin stuff at work, other times, I do some of the legwork, then I try to review the paperwork but I'm constantly interrupted by people wanting things…I can't avoid taking things home sometimes, because it's the only place I can work without interruption."

"But you can't do everything – management and the field work."

"I'm not ready to just sit behind a desk." She had told him this before, too. This repeated discussion was irritating her. She simply wanted to get back to her file, and if he had just let her do it, she might have finished by now.

"Yeah, but…you have a life outside work, too. Saturday was nice, you know. A nice change."

"It was." She softened a bit when she saw the disappointment in his face. "We should do it again sometime. Did Reah get back okay?"

"Yeah, she called me earlier. She's grounded and not happy about it, but she's back. I talked to Jess for a bit, too."

"Good."

"You know, whatever you said to Reah seems to have made an impression. Thanks for…sorting through my family mess."

"She just hasn't had an easy time with her parents' separation. She's looking for love and acceptance, that's all. That boyfriend actually doesn't sound so bad, although I do think someone should keep an eye on that."

"Yeah. But Jess is up to here with everything." He made an explanatory gesture, holding up his flat hand to his forehead. "I think she should get help."

"They'll figure it out. And they have you, Uncle Brian." She nudged him with her foot.

"Lucky them" he replied sarcastically.

"How are things with you?" she asked seriously, taking advantage of the fact that he obviously wanted to talk to her, no matter how inconvenient the time. "Your sessions?"

"Fine" he answered, giving her the usual response of no informational content.

"You like the guy?"

"He's all right."He had taken some issue with the first, female therapist the department had sent him to, and chosen his own instead. She had a feeling that Brian would have an easier time opening up to someone he perceived as tough, and it was definitely a better idea to do this with someone who wouldn't be involved in his re-evaluation. "I just can't wait to get back in the field." He sighed. "But Martinez thinks I need to learn stress management and coping skills first. Like I never had to manage stress while I was UC…"

"Can't hurt, can it?"

"Guess not. Anyway…" He pushed himself up from the sofa. "You sure you're not coming to bed?"

"Not just yet."

"Okay." He gave up, squeezing her shoulder in passing. "Good night."


	26. Bargaining

"I'm sick of winter" she remarked, gazing at the swirl of snowflakes outside the window. It was supposed to be spring. After all the snow they had got this year, it didn't seem fair to still have more at this point. Enough was enough.

"Not a fan of the season?" Dr. Lindstrom responded, keeping the tone light. She was glad he didn't immediately delve into a deep conversation or jump to the conclusion seasonal affective disorder.

"I don't mind it in general. But it's time for this winter to be done." She was fed up with being cold, fed up with wearing layer upon layer and having to heat her apartment for ages before she felt comfortable when she got home.

"I completely agree." He occasionally threw in some personal opinions on things, presumably to make himself more transparent and human. "So what's going on? Bad week?"

"Not particularly. Work's been stressful. One of my detectives is in major trouble and I'm not sure how to help her – it's the kind of situation where it's almost too late to help and I wish I'd been able to do something sooner. I want to help her, but I have to do the right thing for the precinct. And I can't discuss it with any superiors because that would make things worse for her. And I can't say anything about it in front of Brian, because Brian works in IA. So…that's that." She paused, looking at him.

"Sounds like a difficult situation. Is that what you want to talk about?"

"No" she decided. It was pointless; he couldn't come up with a magical suggestion that would make things right for everyone, because she knew in her gut that this type of solution didn't exist for this situation. He would only empathise and give her the usual speech about how she couldn't save the entire world.

Dr. Lindstrom let the pause rest again, waiting for her to pick a subject, any subject. He was really good at silence. Just for once, she would like to sit here and not say anything, just to see how long he could stick it out. But that would be a waste of time and money. There were a million things she could have talked about, but her irritation was too broad, too diffuse to formulate in a concrete manner. Right now, she was fed up with even sitting here.

After what seemed like minutes, he finally gave up. "Last time, I remember you were quite happy. You talked about reconnecting with your brother, seeing your niece and stepnephew, meeting Brian's family. You mentioned certain doubts regarding his not wanting children, but in general, you said your relationship had improved."

"Yes." That pretty much summed it up. "And his niece came to stay with us for a couple of days. It was nice, but…"

"But?"

She hesitated. The words seemed ungrateful and selfish to say. "It feels like I'm acting a part."

"How so?"

"Always. I'm acting a part, whether it's Sergeant Benson or girlfriend or whatever. And sometimes, it feels real, but it's like I'm always waiting for the next blow. Things will go well for a while, but then something, some stupid thing will mess everything up. And I've tried what you said, you know, about taking it day by day, and so I always think 'great, wow, I actually woke up at a normal hour today', but then by the time I make coffee, some tiny thing, a noise or a smell, will trigger a memory. I'll think 'if I can just get on this subway without getting freaked out by this crowd of people, I'm not doing avoidance, I'm okay'. But it never is, because then, the next thing might go wrong, or the thing after that. And I'm tired of thinking about it. I just want a normal life."

"What would a normal life look like?"

"I'm not talking about normal like before, because I know things will never be the same, and in any case, it's not like I had a perfect life before." She crossed her arms. "Normal…normal just means not so fragile. Not full of- not where everything matters so much and you have to watch every step so carefully. Steady. Going somewhere. And no flashbacks or intrusive thoughts, of course. Is that asking so much?" She knew that, in her situation, it was asking a lot. She should be content with what she had, content with surviving and thriving and not being alone.

"I think it's a very natural desire. But what I hear is that you're constantly evaluating your own well-being according to external markers: 'I'm okay if I can get on this train', 'I'm okay because I slept last night'. You say you are feeling disconnected, and it's as if you're testing yourself. Is that right?"

"Yeah."

"That sounds pretty exhausting to me, trying to be in the moment while evaluating the moment. Just out of curiosity: What would be the pass mark for this test?"

"The what?" She thought she knew what he was getting at, the counterproductive self-criticism and rumination on details, but that sure was a weird way of putting it. They had talked about it before, the need to critically engage with this internal monologue of being a "damaged person".

"When are you 'normal enough'?"

She thought about this question for a moment, and there was only one answer if she was being honest. "When everything goes exactly as it should."

"That's a pretty high threshold."

He was right. She looked out the window, watching the snowflakes continue their endless swirl. "I wanted to start over" she said quietly, after a pause. "With Brian. New apartment, new life. I guess it was a stupid idea."

"Not stupid" he replied. His tone had shifted to a gentler register. "After everything you've been through, I'd call it 'brave'."

"Things are better than they were" she acknowledged, more for her therapist's sake than her own because she hated being such a negative client. "It's just that I wish I had another try, without the baggage."

"Maybe it's not so much about starting a new life. Maybe it's about building on the good things you already have in your life."

"How do I do that?"

"Step by step."

Somehow, this instruction lacked precision. She was tired of looking at her life as a piece of Ikea furniture that needed to be put together. "Sometimes, it's easy. The other day, when we- when Brian and I were together, uh, intimate, and I was able to…enjoy it…I thought 'yes, this is it, things can be good again'. I had hope." To her own embarrassment, her vision blurred at this as her eyes turned moist. She clenched her jaw, unable to continue until the moment passed. "And then a couple of days later, he touched my wrist –that's all he did- and I flinched. I couldn't stand it."

"Did it bring something up?"

"Yeah, I mean, obviously. I thought of the tape and- but I don't want to talk about that." She was annoyed; they had reconstructed her trauma narrative, she was supposed to be done with this part. "I know it's a normal reaction with PTSD, I know all that, I can handle it. I am functioning. It's just not having an end in sight…" She trailed off.

"I understand that that must be painful" he said after a moment, "and strenuous, to go through each day like that. But once again, Olivia, I think you are not giving yourself enough credit. Over the past few months, you have recovered from a violent assault, moved in with your partner, returned to work at the same place as before, moved to a new apartment, been promoted, dealt with many other changes including departures of people who were important to you…and you just told me, in the context of something negative, that you were able to take pleasure in physical intimacy again. That in itself is a huge step."

"I know." She was not a helpless victim.

He smiled sympathetically. "Knowing it and feeling it can be two different things."

"Yeah. But Spring always comes in the end, right?"


	27. Learning

She didn't need to look up to feel him staring at her. Doing her best to ignore it, she tried to focus on the figures in front of her, but failed to make sense of the table with his eyes on her. She realized she was re-reading the same column over and over again. "What?"

"Nothing" he answered, averting his gaze.

"Focus" she instructed both of them. She typed some numbers into her calculator, trying to verify her own cost-benefit analysis because it didn't add up.

He sighed, too audibly to be random.

"Brian Cassidy" she warned him. "We said we'd do an hour of efficient work – one hour, that's all. After that, we're free, and we will put down our work no matter what. But that's all on the condition that for this one hour, we concentrate." They were trying a new approach, structuring their time management so they had a fixed window for extra work, while still leaving "me time" or "us time", depending on the day and situation. It was all down to planning. In theory. She had been surprised when Brian had suggested it. It didn't seem like his sort of idea to come up with, and "me time" certainly wasn't his kind of vocabulary. She had gone along with it, for tonight, for his sake.

"Yes, Sarge."

She checked her watch. "Twenty-six minutes down. Almost half time."

"This is pointless" he muttered childishly. "I'm too old for all this studying." Whatever seminar they were making him take now in the name of continuing professional education apparently entailed a practical application test.

"Just get it over with" she said, irritated with the continued talking coming from the other end of the sofa.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to figure out how many officers to send to specialist interview training to compensate for my staff shortage. Applying for funds." Non-existent funds that she wouldn't get.

"Math?" He did not sound impressed.

"Yep. Want to trade?"

"No, thanks."

"What are you studying?" she asked, out of politeness rather than genuine interest.

"Legal foundations of the application of deception in investigative work."

Deception, as in "undercover". She tensed at the thought. "Didn't think there were too many legal boundaries." She thought of the woman who had been raped on UC's watch, of Rollins pulling her gun on a pregnant woman, of Brian around prostitutes who were being sexually exploited. It was a dirty business, no use to pretend otherwise.

"That would make studying this stuff a hell of a lot easier." He shuffled the papers in his lap.

"You know, I don't-" she cut herself off. There was no point in getting into this right now, not while she was still upset about the whole thing with Rollins and he was frustrated with being stuck on desk duty. She had promised herself she wouldn't take this stuff home to him anymore. She found herself wondering if it would be better, healthier for both of them, to be dating someone from outside the criminal justice system. At the same time, she couldn't imagine that someone else would understand the way he did.

"Don't what?"

"Sometimes, I don't understand what exactly makes us 'the good guys' anymore" she stated vaguely. "If anything flies, what's the difference?"

From his pause, she could tell he knew what she was really talking about. They had been tense and evasive with each other these past few nights when asking about their respective work days. "I suppose the difference is that we are working towards a goal, doing damage control. Sometimes, a small evil can be necessary to prevent or stop a greater one."

A small evil? What was a small evil? Organised crime wasn't. Rape wasn't. And damn it, they could not discuss this. "So the ends justify the means? That's nothing else than hypocrisy. If they do it, we arrest them, if we do it, it's okay?"

"No. Isn't that kind of the point of IA?" he asked, looking up from his papers.

"Yeah, well." She didn't want to say negative things about the IAB in front of him, not when he was already struggling with it, but the political nature of who would take the fall or not disgusted her.

"I mean in a perfect world, I agree. But the line isn't always so clear. When I was UC for all that time…" He shook his head, staring off into the distance.

"Things get complicated, I get that." She reminisced about her own, briefer time with the environmental terrorist group. It had changed her for good. "But that doesn't mean the line isn't still there."

"Have you never bent the rules to close a case?"

He knew very well she had, and sometimes, it had closed the deal, and other times, the results had been disastrous. "I was always ready to carry the consequences of my actions." Almost. Unless Elliot had covered for her, or she for him. Hearing Fin relate it to that had been the last straw that had really made it hard to lie to him and Nick. Elliot. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering what he would have to say about all this.

"And did you?"

"For the most part. Sometimes, Cragen took the real blow. The perks of being in command." The latter comment came out sounding more bitter than intended.

"Yeah. Look…" He hesitated, his eyebrows furrowed. "Watch out for yourself as well."

"I'm in trouble?" she asked, knowing he couldn't say more.

"No, although I doubt I'd hear about it either way. But you are….drawing attention. Tucker's watching."

"I know." She knew he meant well, but hearing it wasn't exactly helpful. It wasn't like she was trying to get into trouble; that was the last thing she needed this year. "But what exactly am I supposed to do different? I'm handling it. I can do this."She hoped, although her mind was plagued by doubts and she lay awake at night struggling over decisions. Had she been too lenient on Amanda, driven by desperate times and too much understanding for the workings of addiction? Was Nick, with his control issues, a ticking time bomb?

Brian raised his hands defensively. "Never said you couldn't."

"It's just that the resource situation makes it damn near impossible to do it well." She looked at her table in frustration, her calculation that came up with nothing but deficits.

"I know" he said, sounding equally exasperated with the topic. "But is it really worth it?"

"Is what worth what?"

"This constant drama. You used to love your job and now…"

"It'll get better." She couldn't let herself think about the alternative, because at the moment, the need to prove herself and make this situation work kept her going. "It has to."

"Hope you're right." He took one last glance at his papers before putting them down on the table. "Sorry, I can't do this tonight. I need a shower."


	28. Returning

She could tell it was good news straight away. He hadn't looked excited like this in a while, and the impatience reflected in how he took the bag of groceries from her, setting it down on the kitchen counter without unpacking, gave it away. But he wouldn't say anything, not until she had put away her coat and focused her attention fully on him. "So?"

"No more shuffling papers" he proclaimed. "I'm officially back on active duty."

"That's great!" She smiled at him, relieved that for once, things were going right in one area. "Finally…I'm happy for you."

"Feels so good."

"I can imagine!" She moved around the counter and wrapped her arm around his back. He pulled her into a one-armed hug. "So everything's in order, paperwork, psych eval and all? That was a quick decision."

He shrugged. "You're not the only one who's short-staffed. Guess they decided not to waste my considerable talents any longer."

"Makes sense." Putting him on desk duty for what had happened in the drug case had been a bit of an overreaction in the first place. He wasn't much of a bureaucrat; field word was clearly his area of expertise. She was glad that being good over the past few weeks had paid off.

"I got assigned a new case about five minutes after they told me. Undercover again."

"Oh." She tried not to ruin his moment by showing her disappointment. He would be happier, back in his element again. But he would be gone. She had grown used to having him around more in the evenings. "Guess they really needed you."

"I'm hard to replace." He started to unpack the bag at last.

She helped him store away the few items she had bought, relieved to see that his confidence –perhaps even cockiness- had returned. "This calls for a celebration."

"We have pasta and…pasta." He pulled out the last item with a frown. "That'll be a feast."

"Sorry, I was in a rush to hear your news." She had only grabbed the most basic necessities at the small corner shop, rather than stopping by the store. Neither of them was much of a cook at the best of times, and things had been so busy these past few days that they were running low on supplies.

"Okay, so pasta and…" He opened the fridge, facing the glaring emptiness inside. "…carrots and beer…"

She sighed. "Take-out?"

"Yep." He opened the drawer to get the menus. It was pretty pathetic that, at their age, they had an actual drawer for take-out menus.

"It's your big day, you pick." She knew he hated making a decision, and it would probably take twice as long this way, but she didn't need to be in charge all day and all evening.

"How…gentlewomanly of you."

She shook her head. "Not a real word."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh yeah? Or is it a neologism?"

"Touché." She drew him close and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

He pulled back, surprised, and cleared his throat. "Um, you know, I'm actually not that hungry yet…late lunch and all…"

"Me neither." She kissed him again, with more urgency than before, and a familiar longing began to grow inside her. It was a yearning for the sensation of closeness, for a build-up and quick release. As their kisses deepened, they somehow made their way over to the couch, bumping into a chair on the way. They tumbled onto the cushions, all arms and legs and layers of clothing, and what felt good and right one second, was too fast and out of control the next – way too fast for her, too much wanting and entrapment. "Stop" she gasped.

He froze, pulling back his hands the moment he saw the expression on her face. "Liv?"

"Sorry, I can't." Her heart was racing as she somehow managed to extract herself from the embrace, sitting up with her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands.

"Hey, hey…" He sat up as well, confused. "Breathe."

She took a moment to steady her breathing, leaned forward as she was. What the hell had just happened? Damn it, she had ruined it!

"You all right?"

"Yeah…it just went so fast…"

"Sorry." He raised his hand as if to touch her shoulder, but thought better of it, dropping it.

"No, it's not you, it's…I'm sorry. I did want to, I just- we can try again in a minute, I just need-"

"Hey, slow down, it's not a challenge. We're not doing this now, not like this." She could tell he was disappointed, probably most of all by her reaction to him.

But it wasn't him, he needed to understand that. She sat back up, looking at him. "I'm sorry."

"No worries, it's fine." He was trying to appear cooler about this than he actually was. "Stop apologizing."

She scooted closer to him again, covering his hand on his thigh with hers to let him know that it was okay, that she was fine with physical contact and wasn't pushing him away. "Do you think we could just sit here and…" She didn't want to say "cuddle" because it was such a corny word. "Just for a while."

"Sure." He put his arm around her and they leaned back on the sofa, putting their feet up. Her head came to rest close to his heart. She closed her eyes. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to eat, or move, or sleep, or think. She just wanted to stay here.


	29. Wanting

To pour or not to pour: That was the question. It would be her third –well, third large- glass, which wasn't generally a good idea or something she regularly did on a weekday, but the bottle was already open and there on the table within arm's length. And after all, she wasn't doing any real work, only reading through some new 300 page departmental guidelines that had to have been issued for the pure pleasure of harassing her through eternal boredom. To pour, definitely. She refilled her glass, taking a sip and letting it sink in for a moment. She was finally getting to a good point of light-headedness, that warm, relaxed feeling when the world looked less sharp and clear. She really should have eaten first, but couldn't be bothered with getting up once she had changed into her yoga pants and sweatshirt and settled on the couch, huddled under a blanket. The good part about the warm, hazy feeling was that it made her less sensitive to how much the floor needed a vacuuming. It was Brian's turn, anyway, but as usual, he had forgotten. She had never wanted to be that woman who cleaned up after a man or nagged him into doing his part, so she had decided to test how long it would take until he would notice on his own. A long time, apparently.

She heard the lock turn and the door open and close. The familiar sound of keys and a wallet being laid down on the cupboard, shoes being kicked off, a jacket hung up, always in the same order. He rounded the corner. "Hey, babe."

"Hey yourself." She reached up and grabbed his hand as he walked by behind the sofa, stopping him, and he bent down and gave her a quick peck that ended up somewhere near her eyebrow. She could feel the scratchiness of his five o'clock – okay, more like ten o'clock- shadow. He had seen fresher times.

He glanced at the bottle and glass on the table. "Drinking alone?"

"Self-medicating to make it through this work of beauty" she gestured at the manual in her lap and took another, deliberate sip of wine.

He smirked slightly. "Might want to slow down there."

"It's late."

She drew up her legs a little further so he could sit down at the other end of the couch. He moved the blanket to the side and plopped down, putting his hand on her knee. "What are you reading?"

"One P.P.'s guidelines on public relations."

"Exciting."

"Very. How was your day?"

"Long. A waste of time, since I didn't make much progress. And Tucker's all over me, like he's waiting for me to mess up again."

"He's such an asshole" she replied in her state of alcohol-fuelled honesty. Tucker had put Brian's life on the line more than once. It was hard to shake a certain uneasiness over that.

"But he has the upper hand. Anyway, let's not talk about Tucker. How was your day?"

"Fine, I…" This was not a good time or way to bring it up. Not good at all. "I went to check on that baby boy again. You know, the one from the child pornography case." She had told him the story.

"Ah. Where no one ever came forward?"

"Yes."

"What happened to him?"

"Foster care" she explained. It hurt to say the words. "They keep moving him dependent on availability, and no one seems to have a long-term plan. He's still awaiting permanent placement. I've talked to three different case workers since they took him, and they're basically just glad if they can store him away somewhere for a while." He deserved better. He deserved a loving home, somewhere he could stay forever, where he would be the centre of attention rather than a nuisance. He deserved to be wanted.

"That's sad." He circled her knee with his thumb.

"Yeah. No one wanted him, and now they won't even give him up for adoption because his status is undetermined. But they won't determine his status, either. I've tried tracking down any family connection, anything at all so they can at least record it, but there was no papertrail."

"You're very invested in this case."

"Yeah." She remembered what it had felt like to hold him in her arms, a tactile memory of softness. "When I found him, it just…no one wants him…no one, except…"

He shifted his position uncomfortably. "Except?"

"Except?"

"Except I do" she told him quietly, carefully watching his reaction.

"Oh." Not much of a reaction at all. "You want to adopt a baby you rescued from a crazy couple who produced child porn?"

When he put it like that, it did sound crazy, like she lacked all sorts of professional boundaries. But this wasn't just any stray child from a sad case that she spontaneously wanted to take home. This was different, entirely different from the kind of bond she formed with the children she worked with. She had thought this through. "Yes. Now whether they'd allow it, that's a different matter, but I'd like to apply."

"And you didn't think it would be, you know, good to talk to me before you make up your mind to adopt a child?"

"I'm talking to you now, Bri. What do you think?"

"What do I think?" He looked utterly overwhelmed. "I come home from work and you've basically decided to adopt a child. I think I just got my job back, where I'm UC half the time, I think you just got placed in charge and we're hardly home at the same time, I think we just moved in together a few months ago and things haven't exactly been all sunny and happy…I think we just had this conversation the other day."

"You think you don't want to adopt a child with me" she summed it up. It wasn't surprising, but it stung nonetheless. There was only one possible outcome for this situation, she realized. She hadn't been aware of it herself until she had brought up the subject, of the all-or-nothingness of it. She would have to choose between Brian and having a child. She couldn't have both. One big part of her happiness would be cut away, one way or another. It would be different if she were comparing the abstract concept of a child to the very real, flesh and blood boyfriend she had. But this child wasn't an abstract concept. It was real.

"No, it's not the 'with you' part that's the problem. I'd happily grow old with you. But I don't want kids. I'm sorry." He was holding the blanket, letting it slip through his fingers absent-mindedly.

And so, she asked the question she had been delaying and pushing away. "Not now, or not ever? I need to know."

He looked at her, and the regret and desolation in his eyes gave away the answer.

"Okay." She failed to hide the slight shakiness in her voice. She felt sick to her stomach, knowing what needed to come next.

"I don't want to lose you. But I can't…I can't do that, a house in the suburbs, Sunday baseball games, working nine to five-"

"I never said I wanted any of these things" she said bitterly.

"And I can't be the guy you gave up having kids for."

He was voicing her thought, and she knew deep down that he was right. But she didn't want him to be. "I think that should be my decision."

He shook his head. "You should have a child if that's what you really want."

She swallowed. "I do."

"So…that's it then? It's over?"

"Yes."


	30. Suspended

She was walking again, preferring it over the rush hour public transport. She needed to clear her head. There was no time for a trip to the gym, so this would have to do. She usually left Dr. Lindstrom's office with a calm, relieved yet all talked out and exhausted feeling. But exhaustion and restlessness definitely took precedence today. Feeling the icy wind on her face as she walked between the high rise buildings, being caught up in the anonymity of the city, helped somehow. She stopped to drop the spare change in her pocket into an elderly homeless man's paper cup. The system was failing all over.

She was supposed to feel relief, now that everything had been decided, now that she had talked it over and sorted it out in her head, but there was nothing but confusion and disbelief. This couldn't be where the story ended. Brian and her, that whole "got a second chance after twelve years" thing, that inevitable "not looking for Mr. Right" romance, couldn't end in a five minute break-up. What hurt her most was Brian's willingness to just give up on them, just like that. How quickly he had accepted that she wanted a child, he didn't, and that was it. There hadn't even been a real argument about it. She needed to have that argument, if nothing else.

After telling Lindstrom about the break-up and how it had been a long time coming, she had wanted to think about possible reasons for Brian's behaviour and wish not to have children, but her therapist had made it pretty clear that there was no way to really do that without Brian's perspective. (Once again, here was his tendency to not tell her what to do but push her towards open communication in her relationship, anyway.)

Instead, they had explored her reasons for wanting a child generally, and wanting to adopt this baby in particular. People had mixed motivations for having children, Lindstrom had said. Wanting a purpose in life, wanting to "live on" through someone else, wanting emotional comfort, wanting to have done all the things a woman was "supposed to" do, fun and enjoyment, wanting to feel young again, wanting to "give" a better childhood than you had experienced yourself, wanting to have another person to care for,… She knew that. She had struggled with this herself for years, wanting a child but not wanting to want a child for selfish reasons and not wanting to make the child parent her in some way. But it seemed like there was no truly, entirely non-selfish reason to want a child. And the child definitely didn't get a say in the decision. Yet these were luxury problems, when you looked at all the unwanted children who didn't even get to star in someone else's selfish dream of fulfillment.

So why this baby? Why now? What about professional boundaries? She couldn't quite pinpoint it. It was a feeling, more than anything, a yearning for "that life" combined with the heartbreak of this little boy being unwanted. It was the pressure of this somehow being her last chance, and the wish to be a mother, to give something to one child in her personal life, rather than just trying to fix broken situations in her job. And maybe, yes, maybe Lindstrom was right and it could have something to do with everything that had happened, with wanting to shift her focus on to something else, something healthy, wanting to mend things by having a family. Except it didn't look like that would work out, because she knew that on her own and in her situation, she had few chances of being allowed to foster, let alone adopt, a child. _Socially isolated._ She dreaded the rejection.

And then, there was Brian. Although he had been staying who knew where since their conversation, completely out of her way, she didn't actually miss him yet. She couldn't, because what had happened between them simply didn't feel real. The problem wasn't that they had disagreed about something, the problem wasn't even that he didn't want to adopt this baby right now, the problem was that he couldn't even see a possible future in that direction. With him, there was no future. They were just living in the moment, two adults in their 40s living in one apartment, sharing their days –sometimes as lovers, more often as roommates of late- living their separate lives together in the moment. And she had always thought that was enough, that she was incredibly lucky to even have that, to have it through the abduction aftermath, through the trial and PTSD, to have the comfort without having her boundaries pushed. But it wasn't. Suddenly, she needed a plan, some kind of perspective, and that tended to make relationships complicated. She missed the simple days of just being happy waking up in his arms or coming home to find someone already there.

She pulled out her phone and opened her favourite contacts, touching his name and putting the phone to her ear. She turned away from the wind, shielding it with her gloved hand as much as possible. It beeped in the familiar way. _Come on, answer._ She was anxious to hear his voice, but the call went to his voicemail, as it so often did.

"Hi, it's me. Um, this would be easier if you had actually answered your phone. So call me back." She paused, deliberating how much exactly one could put into a voicemail message. "I don't like how we left things and this…avoiding each other is not helping. We need to talk. So please call me back, okay?" There, she had taken the first step. The ball was in his court now. She just hoped he would pick it up.


	31. Talking

"I'm glad you came" she said as he stepped inside, regretting it instantly. It felt awkwardly formal to welcome him like this, when in all reality, they would just be sitting around as they normally would have done on an evening like this.

"Sure." He removed his jacket and hung it up, took off his shoes and followed her into the living room. They remained standing in the middle of the room for a moment, uncertain what to do next. He was wearing casual, regular clothes, she noticed, nothing too formal or run down, so he hadn't just got off duty, which was better for having a real conversation.

She set the direction by sitting down on the sofa and he followed her lead, leaving a bit of space between them. He rubbed his palms against his jeans, not leaning back.

"How have you been?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"How do you think, after we…" She broke off and looked at her hands, deliberating her next words. It was harder to follow through on this with him sitting right next to her. Paradoxically, this ached more than not seeing him. Maybe she was only dragging out the inevitable, making it more painful for both of them. "Bri, can we not pretend…can we not throw everything away just like that?"

"I didn't want to throw away anything."

"But it was so….either/or."

"It's an either/or situation."

Yes. That was precisely the problem. "But based on one conversation? You didn't even really tell me how you feel about it all."

"Of course I did" he replied, irritated.

"Not really." She raised her hands defensively. "And I didn't give you much of a chance, to be fair. I kind of sprung this whole thing on you."

"Liv, please…no matter how it would have come up, the outcome would be the same. You want children. I don't. There's not really a way to compromise on that." He kept saying that, one hundred percent reason and sense.

"I heard you. I'd just like to understand." She tried to keep her voice as neutral as possible. "Why not?"

"I'm just not sure I'd be much of a father. There's the job, which means I'm always away, for days at a time, sometimes weeks –I know I could probably transfer, eventually" he interjected, seeing her open her mouth to argue with him. "But it's important to me. And I don't want to be one of these dads, like my dad was, who's never there. I don't want that. It wouldn't be right. And it wouldn't work, not for us."

"I can understand that." She once again went on the mental journey of picturing that life, with him gone a lot, being alone with a young child, being the one to make more sacrifices career-wise while watching him do his thing. Was she ready to make these sacrifices? Was she ready for that kind of asymmetrical relationship? "But families come in many forms. That life you mentioned, living in the suburbs and all that – that's not us. It doesn't have to be some kind of picture book family. I don't want to change who we are."

"But that's my point, having a kid would change who we are. It changes everything. You live for the kid. And I don't…I mean…things haven't been simple between us, exactly. We were just getting to some level of normal. We're not young, either. How can we take care of another person if we're just figuring out how to take care of ourselves?"

"You figure it out with time. It's a process." She couldn't help but think of Calvin in her kitchen, nearly setting the place on fire when he had made pancakes and forgotten to turn off the stove. "You know, I was named legal guardian of a boy once, only for a while. He was twelve at the time, so I know it's not the same thing, but…"

"I didn't know that" Brian muttered, after a pause. "What happened to him?"

"It was a complicated situation with his mother. I…his grandparents came back into his life and he went to live with them. We kept in touch for a while after that, but it sort of died down. He was angry I let him go." She tried not to think about it too hard, focusing on the way the light fell through the window and made a pattern on the floor.

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't easy, being thrown into parenting like that, but you grow into it. You manage."

"But how? How would we find childcare at 1am, when both of us are out working? It's not even likely they'd let us adopt, with our high risk jobs and routines."

She noticed the switch he had made from talking about a child in the third person to "we". He was going through the same hypothetical scenario with her, envisioning them in the situation. "It would be hard. We would have to find some form of support, both formal and informal. I could go on leave from work. They'd replace me, and I'd be assigned…somewhere afterwards." Possibly not SVU. That was an idea she still needed to get her head around. This career sacrifice was perhaps the thing she wasn't quite ready for.

"Is that what you want?"

"I think." She tried to listen inside herself for an answer, but none came. It had all seemed so clear when she had seen the baby, sick and in need of help. But the more she thought about it and seriously weighed her options, the less certain she was. "I don't know for sure" she admitted. "I know I want a family."

He looked at her, and there was a great sadness in his eyes. They remained silent for a few moments, each chasing after their own thoughts. Maybe she was holding on to something that should have been left where it had been 14 years ago. She remembered when she had pressed her hands to his gunshot wound to staunch the blood flow, the fear and regret. Life was too short.

"I can't pretend that I'm ready for a baby, not even for you" he said quietly. "And I don't know if I'll ever be, but you are. You're so certain. And I…I love you so much. I don't want you to give that up. You should get to experience that. Maybe, with someone else-"

"I don't want to 'experience it' with someone else" she countered roughly. His noble mindedness annoyed her. She didn't need him to 'set her free' for her sake; she was perfectly capable of making her own decisions. "I've thought about this a lot, and the thing is, I don't want to just adopt a child at any cost. Not by myself." She had talked to ACS and in all reality, her chances of being considered by herself, without another person or significant support system involved, were slim. But even thinking about it, hoping and daydreaming about it, it wasn't really just her and a child. It was her and Brian. It was hard to imagine a family life without him in it.

He shook his head. "I don't want you to sit here in 20 years wondering 'what if', wondering if you gave it up for me and if it was really worth it."

"Could you see us sitting here in 20 years?" She needed to know if he wanted a future with her, and what that childless future might hold for them.

"Well, not on this exact same couch maybe" he replied, failing at his feeble attempt to lighten the mood. "But yeah, I guess."

"Do you ever picture the future?"

"Of course. All the time." He rubbed his hint of a beard stubble.

"What does it look like? Your life in 20 years?"

"We'd be living in an awesome apartment. I mean even cooler than this, large, with big windows, close to the Bay." He gestured to indicate a large, asymmetrical space. "Still Westside. And, being 20 years in the future, it would have all sorts of technical gadgets."

She groaned at this. Of course he had to turn her rather serious question about their possible future together into a declaration of love for technology. Tablets, retina displays, ebook readers, a TV controlled via hand motions – they had it all, and rarely got around to using it.

"We'd still be working, but cutting back, or maybe we would have switched jobs by then, doing something at the DA's office or teaching at the academy. I wouldn't mind trying out teaching." He looked at her thoughtfully. "You might be an activist of some sort, in charge of something big. But either way, we would have weekends off, no more shift work, and we would go to the park or go hiking, find some way to keep active and healthy. And you'd drag me to exhibitions and things like that sometimes, and I'd always complain but end up going and sort of liking it sometimes, but never telling you because I wouldn't want you to be right." A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "And we'd save up money and from time to time, we'd take some time off and go on a crazy trip somewhere, driving straight across the whole country or river rafting in Nepal."

"River rafting in Nepal?" He sure put a lot of detail into this vision.

"A buddy of mine did it for his 50th birthday."

"Strike the river rafting in Nepal."

"Either way, we'd travel and be together. We could be married –or not, we wouldn't have to be-" he added quickly, "but if we were, I don't think either of us would change our last name."

"No, I don't suppose we would." She smiled sadly. A few months ago, before Baby Doe, before the non-pregnancy, this might have been her dream. It might still be. She was moved by how thought through this was, that he didn't picture a life without her any more than she did without him. It was a life she could imagine very well for both of them. The question was whether it was enough, whether she wanted to have a child more than she wanted this life. She had no answer. She needed time to think, time when he wasn't sitting right next to her and all she wanted to do was touch him.


	32. Regret

"You want to go grab a drink?" It was such a simple question, not strange at all coming from a colleague she had known for a while. And still, she had hesitated. She was still finding her boss mode and trying to figure out how much of what used to be normal could still be normal. Except that it had never been a regular thing for A.D.A. Barba and her to go grab a drink together, unless it was in a group, and now that she was commanding officer and things had been rather awkward group wise, there really wasn't anyone else who was an actual peer. Their interactions had cooled somewhat since their argument, riddled with the complexity of their mistakes, but here he was, clearly trying to make an effort to get along. It seemed rude not to accept. Besides, it would be nice to have somewhere to go, to talk casually and not have to face her empty apartment just yet.

They had met at the end of her shift to discuss a case that involved a five-year-old potential sexual abuse victim, whose testimony was naturally susceptible to suggestion. The evidence so far seemed to indicate that the little girl had become caught up in a bitter custody fight, but they were waiting for the psychological assessment report to find out definitively whether this could be brought to trial or not. It had been a fairly productive day with regards to this case at least, but the ball was in her court now and she wasn't too happy about bringing him yet another case that might turn out to be nothing after all – in legal terms at least.

So here they were, at the old, half-empty bar, just the two of them left. Barba glanced over at her. "You don't look so good."

She forced a half-hearted smile. "That's charming."

"You okay?"

She wished he would stop asking her that every time they shared a semi-private moment. It was as if he was waiting for the department to fall apart in her hands. "Sure."

He kept looking at her for a moment, then turned back to his whiskey, swirling the ice cubes in his glass. "You know, I don't understand these parents. Fighting over their kids like they're property; it's disgusting."

"Me neither." She took a sip of her wine, pondering the situation. "But we're done for today. Time to switch it off."

"How do you switch it off?"

"I shift my focus." She shrugged. "Get chores done. Do things I enjoy."

"Does it work?"

"Sometimes. I'm getting better at it. Took me a while to get there." There weren't too many things she did enjoy right at this moment, things that wouldn't remind her of Brian. Mostly, she had just been trying to pass the day. "What about you? What do you do when you go home?

"I watch C-SPAN, mostly." He gestured at the TV screen overhead, which was not showing C-SPAN but some Spanish telenovela. "Play some golf on the weekends."

She couldn't help smiling. He would. "Do you…have pets or anything?" It was the least personal personal question she could think of, something safe that wouldn't cross the line of his tightly wound professionalism.

"No pets. My plants tend to die, so a dog would definitely be too much responsibility" he answered, completely serious. "Sheila, my ex-wife, had a cat, but she took it with her."

"I'm sorry." This was new information.

He shrugged, still staring up at the screen. "It hated me and always scratched the furniture, so we didn't exactly share a bond of affection."

"I didn't mean the cat." She put down the wine glass, supporting her head in her hand. She was feeling tired all of a sudden.

"Ah. Well, in Sheila's case, turns out affection alone wasn't enough."

"It really isn't" she muttered.

"You pay the price for your priorities. It's not that I regret anything, it's just…" He shook his head, swirling his drink again. "Everything comes at a price."

She knew what he meant. Nothing was free or simple. "Regret is pointless. If you had made different choices, you might also want different things now."

"I don't know about that. In the end, I think some desires are universal, if sometimes incompatible. Good health, safety, success, love, friendship, comfort, esteem, stability, lack of boredom…"

"Boredom? Well, at least we don't have issues with that." She raised her glass in an implied toast and took another sip of her wine.

"We may not. Sheila did. And that's my sob story of the day" he concluded, indicating that this was all he wanted to say on the matter.

She wasn't sure she wanted to know more, anyway. She waited a moment, thinking about his words on universal desires. What were her desires? Happiness. Love. Success. Stability. Companionship. Freedom. Freedom – now more than ever, in her post-Lewis life. She wanted to breathe, eat, live, work, sleep without a shadow cast on it. Did freedom have to entail being alone? "I might have to look for a new place to live. Again."

From the way he paused, she could tell he understood the meaning of her statement. "So soon?"

"We haven't worked out the details yet." She didn't know why she was telling him this. Somehow, Barba sharing information on his failed marriage had created a need for reciprocation. "I'm hoping it won't come to that."

"I hope you're right."

"I guess we don't always get to fulfil our desires." Saying it out loud was scary.

"No. But sometimes, with time and work…sometimes, maybe."

She wanted to believe he was right. "Maybe."

"Let me know if you need the names of any realtors."


	33. Unprepared

"Brian!" The surprised utterance escaped her before she could fully process his presence in this empty street at this late hour.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you" he apologized, his breath forming little clouds in the cold night air.

"No, don't be - I mean, what are you doing here?"

He approached her slowly, standing right in front of her. "I just wanted to stop by. I knew you were supposed to be working late today and I thought-" he paused, looking almost embarrassed, "I thought I'd pick you up."

Now she was truly confused. "Pick me up from work?" She stepped down from the curb to be on a level with him.

"Not really, I just wanted to see you." His face had that boyish expression again when he said it, the one she had fallen in love with over time.

"Brian…" She couldn't stop herself from touching his arm, squeezing it affectionately. She had missed him, too. "You know you're not making this any easier, right?"

"It's not going to be easy either way. We still live together."

"Yeah." She wasn't ready for the detangling conversation, that inevitable talk about who would get the apartment, who would have to find a new place to live and move out –or whether that was even what they wanted- who would get the TV or the things they had just bought together down to the last fork. She wasn't ready for it today, after a long shift at work, or maybe she was simply putting it off again. "Look, it's not that I want you out of my life, I just think we both need time to adjust-"

"I don't want to adjust."

"Okay. So that's it?" The shift from an "I don't think we have a future together since we want different things, but I love you" to a "this is over, goodbye" hit her hard. She tried to push a lose strand of hair that kept blowing into her face back, which was impossible to do with gloves on. He reached out and gently tucked the stray hair behind her ear, his bare fingers brushing against her face. She caught his hand on the way down. "You're cold."

"Yeah. I was hoping we could talk, but maybe this isn't the time and place for that conversation." He was reciprocating the hold she kept on his hand, her warmer fingers curling around his. They started walking along the road. "I don't want things to be over. I just wanted to see you before…"

"Before what?"

He took a deep breath. "I'm going undercover again."

"Oh." Her voice betrayed her disappointment. He was all too ready to leave without things being resolved between them. Then again, it might be easier, a quick escape from their problems. "How long?"

"It's not deep cover, a few days, a couple of weeks tops. I can't say for sure."

She nodded, all too familiar with the unpredictable nature of his assignments. There was nothing she could say. "Be careful."

"Always. But listen, I'm going to think about some things and…could we talk when I get back?"

"Of course." She would never deny him the opportunity to talk.

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Just don't throw out my DVDs yet, okay?"

She was going to make some joke about how his t-shirts would be the first to go, but the words got stuck in her throat. "We'll talk."

"Okay" he said, looking genuinely relieved. "You want a ride home? It's late."

"No, thanks. I took my car to work today." She pointed it out in the endless row of vehicles parked on the curb, holding up her keys. He hadn't even noticed it.

"Right." He leaned in and gave her a brief kiss on the cheek. "Drive safe."

"You too." She watched him walk away, long after she knew she should be unlocking her car and getting in. He never looked back.

She was torn out of her thoughts abruptly by the ringing of her cell phone. Pulling her glove off, she rummaged in her coat pocket for a moment before finding it. Glancing at the display, she was disappointed to see the letters "ADA Barba" from her work contacts flash up. So much for going home. Why on earth was he calling her in the middle of the night? His work hours were fairly regular. "Hello?"

"Olivia, we need to meet" he stated in his business-like manner, getting straight to the point.

"Uh, now? It's 1am."

"Now. It's urgent."

She could tell from his demeanour that it wasn't good news. Hell, he wouldn't be calling at this hour if it were. Cop mode kicked back in. "Okay. I'll get back to-"

"Where are you right now?"

"Right outside the precinct. Why?"

"Get back inside. I'll meet you there in twenty minutes."


	34. Being There

She checked the locks on her windows for the third time since getting home, taking a quick glance out at the street even though there was nothing to see. _You have a protective detail_, she reminded herself. _Stop obsessing. You need to get some rest if you want to catch him. He wants you to be off your guard. He's playing his mind games with you, wearing you out by not doing anything. He's using your fear. Don't let him._ There were two cops right outside her apartment door, and another couple of cars downstairs, which was more than usual. Barba had insisted, and she wouldn't give him any arguments this time. Any way of getting into the building had been covered. _But he's clever. I still don't know how he got in last time. He'll use the element of surprise. If he wants to, he can get past._ _But he's not omnipotent, stop catastrophising. _It had been a stupid idea to go home, she had realised the second she had walked into her empty apartment after it had been searched extensively and cleared. Anything was better than being here, reminded of how everything had happened last time. However, she hadn't had much of a choice, after thirty-two hours at the precinct, where she wouldn't have been able to catch a break, either.

They hadn't been making any progress these past few hours, hadn't had any more leads to follow despite everyone working in overdrive. They were waiting for forensic reports on the bodies. Emotions were running high and when Lieutenant Carranza had become involved in the investigation –_her_ investigation- through Barba's concern, he had sent the team home for a few hours, and had "strongly recommended" she didn't show up back there until the morning. And, since she wasn't alone, she couldn't very well go anywhere else at this time of night. But it wasn't hers, or Carranza's, investigation that would catch Lewis. He would be the one to make contact, she knew that. She just couldn't stand the waiting, not after that first phone call that had made her feel sick to her stomach.

Pumped up on fear, rage and lack of sleep, her body was in a persistent state of hyperarousal. She didn't know if she had a breaking point, but if she did, this was definitely it. _Let him come, then. I'm ready. _Her hand touched the gun she was carrying on her body at all times. But she didn't want him here, not in her safe space, her apartment. She didn't want to have to move again. She glanced out the window again. She could have sworn she had just seen Nick's car going by – Nick, who had followed her home against her express command. They had all offered to stay with her, had offered for her to crash at their place, but she had declined. Still, she had overheard them talking about working out some kind of system, and falling quiet when she had approached them. She hated that they did that now, talking about her in hushed voices like she was something fragile to be sheltered. She wasn't going to put any of them at risk, and either way, it was only a matter of time until Lewis figured it out. She had made it clear to them that they were not to go off investigating on their own off duty, that no accident would befall Lewis should they happen to find him. Of course, if they did find him first, he didn't stand a chance.

Her radio cracked, making her jump out of her skin. "Sergeant Benson, this is Officer Marowe. There's a man downstairs to see you. We have been able to confirm his i.d.."

"Who is it?"

"Detective Brian Cassidy."

She took a deep breath. So he had heard. Well, it was impossible not to, with the search going on. She couldn't send him away. "Let him in."

A seemingly eternal wait and another radio call from the hallway later, she opened the door and let him step into their apartment. It was a bizarre feeling, for her to have the power to let him in or decline him entry. This was his place as much as hers.

"Bri…" She didn't know what she had intended to say. He looked rugged and unshaved. Before she could try and think of something appropriate, he pulled her into a wordless hug. She tensed up as he wrapped his arms around her. If she let go now, she might lose it, and that was the last thing she wanted. He smelled and felt the same way as always. She clutched his jacket and gave into the embrace for just a moment, just that one moment, before breaking away.

"Any leads?" he asked.

"Loads of false leads. Nothing that amounts to anything so far."

"I'm so sorry" he said awkwardly. "Are you okay?"

"Hell no. My abductor broke out of prison." She ran one hand through her messy hair. "But I'm managing."

"Sorry, stupid question."

"What are you doing here? You're supposed to be UC-"

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter now. Look, I only just heard. I would have-"

"You didn't need to come" she clarified.

He looked at her incredulously. "Of course I had to."

"We broke up." It was harsh, she knew, but her mind was beyond the point of being able to be subtle. She didn't need him to rush back here to save her. She could look after herself.

His face hardened. "I remember. Does that really matter right now?"

"No." She didn't have time to think about anything but Lewis at the moment, anything but the gnawing apprehension and fight to stay in the present, to analyse his movements with some kind of detachment. Everything that had come before, everything that might come after, was like a story out of a different life right now, an illusion of safety she had once had.

"I want to stay with you" he proposed, equally forward.

"No."

"Why not?"

"No need. I have a protective detail." She started pacing again, unable to stand still for a moment. "I'm heading back to the precinct in a bit. I don't have time…I have enough people watching my back. You don't need to worry."

"I know. Do you realise Amaro's practically camping outside your building?"

She shook her head. "Yeah. Not at my request."

"Obviously. But that's not why I'm here." His features softened, his expression changing to one of concern.

"Why then?"

"I don't want you to be alone."

"I won't do anything stupid, promise."

"Good, but I mean…this…it's horrible. I don't want you to have to deal with that by yourself." He knew. God, he, of all people, knew most what it meant, what it was doing to her to be under constant threat again.

"I…" She opened her mouth and closed it again, swallowing back the lump in her throat. "That's very sweet, thank you. But considering recent events, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Please" he appealed to her irrational side. "I'll stay as a friend, on your terms, I'll sleep on the couch and leave you be. Just let me stay."

'A friend', what a bizarre expression. How easy it would be to just give in. To not be alone in the dark apartment. And how very wrong. If something happened and she did get a chance to go after Lewis, she knew he would hold her back. She could see that he was seeking her out for his own sake as well, so he didn't have to sit home alone and worry about her. But she couldn't think anymore, she was too tired for that, too tired to weigh up pros and cons, to argue about this or figure out a clever way of getting him off her back. "For tonight" she agreed quietly. "Thank you."

He nodded, satisfied, walking into the apartment and taking a look around. "They checked all the ways of getting in?" He was in neutral cop mode, which was safe territory for them.

"Yes. But you know we were pretty careful when we picked this place." They had had a state of the art alarm system installed. There was no balcony, no way of getting in via neighbouring apartments.

"I remember." He checked the window frames as she had just done. "And they searched the place? Properly?"

"Of course they did." Too many questions. If Lewis had been hiding inside the apartment, she would most likely be dead by now.

He covered his mouth and shook his head. Now he was the one who was pacing. "How the fuck did he get out?!"

"How the fuck did no one manage to make those charges stick for over a decade?" She sank down on the sofa, burying her head in her hands. "He's smart."

"What kind of idiot doctor buys into his fake seizure crap?" Anger. It was the stage she had passed a few hours ago.

"There's no point in blaming the victim. You know what happened in court last time." She clearly didn't need to remind him of how Lewis had played the jury.

"So what's his play, here? Why hasn't he done anything yet?"

"I don't know" she replied, exasperated with the questions she had been trying to answer a million times. "Hoping we'll stop watching him so closely? Making us chase our tails, for the fun of it?"

"Do you have any of his file here?"

She didn't. All that she had was the transcript of her own court case, which she had obtained via slightly improper means in order to study them for any clues. "No, and you're not looking at his file."

"A pair of fresh eyes can't hurt; I need to find him-"

"No. Listen to me, Brian" she stressed more loudly, seeing him open his mouth to object again, "you're not going to find new information in there. You're not objective. There are hundreds of people out there who want nothing more than to find Lewis, and I got a bunch of people who I hope to God are not the ones to track him down, because if they do, they'll kill him and go to jail for it. You want to help? You can stay here, because it…it helps not to be alone. Okay?"

"Okay" he replied powerlessly, dropping the argument. "Okay." He sat down next to her, leaning forward with his forearms on his thighs, his hands folded.

"Thank you."

"Shit" he muttered.

"You can say that again. I thought this was done." She rubbed her eyes. Her make-up had been on for far too long, causing them to itch. "I thought it was over. And now he killed those people…the guard and…just to get to me."

"You can't think like that. This is not your fault."

"He can't let me win. I won, but the wrong way." She struggled to find the words, not sure how much he could understand from the outside, how much these dynamics between her and Lewis made sense. "He can't allow that. I played the game."

"It's not a game" he said, aghast. "You did what you had to do to survive, to put him away. It's real. It's not a game."

"It is to him."

"Because he's a sick pervert!" His jaw was clenched under the strain of containing that rage. "You can't think like him."

"How else am I supposed to find him?"

"Maybe it's not your job to find him! He's hurt you enough-"

"I played the game." She looked at him, desperately willing him to understand. It was her inner world of violence, her personal nightmare that she had never wanted him to become a part of, that she had never wanted to put inside his head. "Don't you get it? I let him get to me. He got me to use violence, to beat him brutally to a point where I could barely stop-

"-but you did-"

She held up her hand, shushing him. "I'm not saying he didn't deserve it, but in a sick way, I did what he wanted. I crossed that line. And I lied about it on the stand."

"Because good people don't lie?" he exclaimed. "This is Lewis we're talking about! He had to be stopped!"

"That's not the point." Her voice was barely above a whisper now. "I did what I did. And he can't leave it at that; he can't let me win. He'll get back at me, and more people will suffer."

"Liv." He put his hand on her upper back, but she shrugged it off, unable to tolerate the contact. "Liv…please…that's what he wants you to think. That's what he's trying to put into your head, how he gets control. That doesn't make it true."

"It really doesn't matter now." This wasn't the time for fundamental discussions about her head. "We need to find him before even more people get hurt."

"Yes. And the best way to do that is after a break that you actually use to rest."

"Rest" she scoffed. "Do you really think I can sleep now?"

"You're exhausted, you know you are. It's affecting your judgement." He was good at this, she thought, good at finding the point that he knew would work with her. "Go lie down, try at least. I'll stay right here."

She gave in, forcing herself to exhale the breath she had been holding. "Thank you."


	35. Waking

It hadn't been a nightmare, she realized as her initial fog of confusion lifted. Her lights were dimmed but on, and she was lying on top of her covers fully dressed, wide awake, alone, not bolting up from sleep drenched in sweat. This was real, there would be no waking from this dream. Her eyes automatically sought her alarm clock to check how much time had passed. 3:53am. Another hour, she told herself, another hour and she would head out to continue her manhunt. She listened to the silence for a minute or so, as the events of the past day inevitably washed over her. She couldn't remember drifting off to sleep, after tossing and turning, but recalled a strange state of half-sleep, that point where you were still semi-aware of the room but also dreaming, with thoughts and fantasies all blending together. No real rest, but better than nothing, and at the very least, she had been able to take a shower.

She listened to the silence again. Despite the reassurance Brian's presence in the living room was supposed to provide, she felt uneasy knowing that he was behind that corner, that she would have to pass through to the next room to check on him, not knowing what she might find – a bloody mess? She shook the mental images before they could become too distinct. _Good morning, sunshine._ She had deliberately left the bedroom door open for precisely that reason, as much as she needed her withdrawal space and privacy. The silence unnerved her. She slowly rose from the bed, feeling slightly dizzy, and moved to the other room as quietly as possible. The floor was cold under her feet.

She glanced over the back of the couch, relieved to find him lying at an awkward angle with his legs falling to one side, his eyes closed, breathing evenly. As she moved around the couch, she inevitably alerted his spider senses. He jerked awake, sitting up instantly. "Huh? What?" They had left some of the living room lights on, too. "Olivia?"

"Shh."

"Everything all right?" He looked around the room nervously.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Damn, you startled me."

"Sorry." She shouldn't have robbed him of his moment of peace.

"No need to apologize." He rubbed his eyes and moved his legs, making room for her on the sofa. She sat down beside him wordlessly and he put his arm up on the back of the couch, facing her. "What time is it?"

"4am."

"Did you get to sleep?"

"Yes."

"Really?" He studied her face, not asking why she was waking him up in the middle of the night.

"A bit, sort of." Too many questions again. Her head was overflowing with things to consider and she was fighting the urge to call in and ask for new information, any CCTV footage to study or anything. She knew there wasn't any news, or they would have called her, but waiting and doing nothing was impossible.

"How can I help?"

"You can't." She leaned back sideways, coming close to his arm.

"So what are you doing to do?"

She closed her eyes briefly. "Please stop asking me questions. I don't know."She hated that he felt that he needed to be here for her, that it was a situation like this once again that brought them closer together. That had been the entire problem with their relationship, that it was based on tragedy and mutual dependency.

"Okay" he said helplessly, lightly brushing against her shoulder with his thumb.

"Sorry."

"Please stop apologizing."

"All right. I expect Lewis to make contact eventually. That'll give us a chance to track him down. Engage him, find out what he wants."

Brian shifted uneasily, visibly chewing on something. "And you'll…engage him."

"As far as I have to, yes. He's too clever to fall for tricks though." No games, she promised herself. No dangerous games, no drawing him in.

"So you'll talk to him."

She nodded. "Sooner or later."

"And you're ready for that." His doubts were evident in his tone.

"Never. I never wanted to hear his voice again. It…" The thought alone made her sick, but Brian didn't need to hear that. "Readiness doesn't come into it. It's not like I have a choice."

"I guess not. I just worry that…" He stopped, rubbing his beard stubble absent-mindedly. "Just don't go after him on your own or anything. Don't be a hero."

The wording irked her. "Believe me, that's the last thing I want." And still, she might have to do it anyway. There was a dark part of her that wanted to, a part that desperately needed to be the one to bring Lewis down, to show that he hadn't destroyed her, to win. To make his voice stop.

"Do you think about it? I mean, about killing him?"

"We'd have to find him first."

He ignored her evasive answer.

"I want to" she said quietly, horrified by her own words. "So it's over. But I also don't, because I want him to suffer, and I don't- I don't want to have it in me to do…that. I want the system to work. I want to prove that he can't play it, and that he can't make me do that. I want things to be just. I need to believe that I work in a system that makes sense." She scooted down further on the sofa, leaning into the corner. "I just don't know if that's true."


	36. Mea culpa

Her phone had been ringing non-stop ever since her TV appearance. She had been dodging questions from Tucker, Lieutenant Carranza, the press, some crazy lawyer wanting to take up Lewis' case, a priest, Raffael Barba, the news station, and what seemed like the rest of the world. She had persuaded Tucker, miraculously, to hold off on questioning her until they got Amelia back safely. If she was still alive. She refused to imagine the alternative. As long as they could save her, she told herself, the rest didn't matter.

She seemed to be walking from A to B non-stop, her security detail following her step by step, an unnerving shadow of a pair. Five minutes was all she had asked from them, all she had asked from Nick and Rollins and Fin, to sit in her office by herself and breathe. After that, all she could do was wait by the phone, hoping that Lewis would keep his word and call. Call, he would, she knew that much, if only to gloat, although whether he would keep his promise was less than certain. The promise of a serial rapist and murderer couldn't really count for much. But she had done as he had told her to, done what she could to save the girl. She could only hope against hope it was enough although she knew in her heart that it couldn't be, that Lewis had to have a second act planned. And even if not, he might kill her anyway, because she was little more than a doll to him.

She unbuttoned her uniform jacket, the jacket she might be wearing for the very last time today – certainly, it would be her last time wearing a gold badge and sitting in this office. She looked around, taking in the room, her position behind this desk, Cragen's desk. She hadn't managed to hold on to it for long. If only she hadn't lied in court, if she had trusted her instincts and been honest, none of this might have happened. She might not have Lauren Cole's suffering on her hands, little Amelia's blood on her hands. Or Lewis might have gotten off in court and killed other people the second he got away. She didn't know; nothing seemed certain anymore beyond the fact that she was guilty of something, some crime and whatever she did seemed to make things worse.

Except for this. She had been honest, admitted her fault for the whole world to see, and whatever it might cost her, she knew that she had done the right thing. Living with a lie, that wasn't her. _I confess to almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and in what I have failed to do, __through my fault, through my fault__, __through my most grievous fault__._ As the phrase randomly crossed her mind, she thought of Elliot and his unshakable faith in something she had never been able to understand. Confession was supposed to lead to absolution, but the truth was that it could never make things right again. There was no deity to bargain with, no one to make promises to that she would keep as long as Amelia lived.

Finally, it was her cell phone that rang yet again, not her office phone. She glanced down to see Brian's face, that stupid selfie he had taken ages ago and programmed into his contact info when she had left her phone lying around at his place. She had other things to be doing right now than talking to him, but she had already refused to take his last call and he was probably worried about her.

"Hey" she opened the line, telling herself that it would only be a brief talk, only to reassure him that she was fine but busy and to get him off her back for a while. "I only have a minute."

"Why did you do it?" it spilled out of him without a greeting. They hadn't talked since before the abduction.

"I had to." He had to have watched the rest of the news to understand why.

"If they get you for perjury, he could-"

"He's already out. It's done."

"Liv-"

"He raped that woman. He raped her, and he told her to tell me that-" She couldn't continue. "He took her daughter. He said he'd kill her if I don't tell the truth. Can you not understand that?"

"I understand, I do."

"She's twelve years old, Brian." Tears started to roll down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand quickly, before anyone could barge into her office and see. This, talking to Brian, wasn't doing any good right now. She couldn't afford to lose focus.

"Shit."

"I have to find her."

"Liv, promise me-"

"I gotta go, sorry."

"Hey, wait, don't do anything dangerous, okay?"

"I won't" she lied, ending the call. She had made up her mind.


End file.
